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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138673">Name of Yearning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowPixie/pseuds/SparrowPixie'>SparrowPixie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Danarhi rights, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Romance, Im a basic bitch that’s a sucker for regency era tropes, Implied Zayqisa, I’m not even sorry, More Jane Austen, Pining, Regency Era, Regency Era AU, Think Bridgerton but not cringey, Yearning, indulge me please, no plot just fluff tropes, regency era romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:35:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,118</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowPixie/pseuds/SparrowPixie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When unwed Nahri e-Nahid’s parents die of an illness her Aunt and Uncle take her in at their London estate in hopes of marrying her off to a suitor. But Nahri longs to practice and study medicine, a “hobby” that no suitor seems inclined to support. At a loss for happiness or hope Nahri meets the family’s new footman, a former unmarried General, Dara with a dark past. A friendship is forged and from it an inescapable passion and forbidden romance. (Warning: no plot, just those regency era pining romance I burn for) COMPLETED</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri e-Nahid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/astarisms/gifts">astarisms</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nahri was hunched over the small couch before the window, her delicate hands gripping the intricately carved wood tightly as her lady’s maid cinched her corset tighter. She gasped breathlessly, vision blurring briefly as Nisreen’s fragile fingers yanked the strings tighter. She could practically feel the former nurse’s pitying gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My lady, you’ll look stunning tonight at the very least. Your aunt assures me that you’ll hardly notice the discomfort after just a few hours,” Nisreen said hopefully. “And I’m certain that the dancing will take your mind off of your… inability to breathe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri snorted at the flatness of the woman’s last words, then gasped again as the corset tightened once more. She could practically feel her ribs pinching now. She glanced down briefly to see the swell of her breasts compacted tightly creating an ample amount of cleavage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, according to my lovely Aunt at the age of twenty I’m practically damaged goods for not having a husband,” Nahri muttered. “Hardly my fault. Courting wasn’t really a priority while my parents were… ill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri found that the subject of her recently perished parents was becoming easier and easier to discuss as the months had passed. Their company, their compassion, was sorely missed but nothing forgotten. Not to mention there wasn’t much time to mourn with her Aunt Manizeh toting her about like a new hat. Trying to marry her off at every outing and ball they attended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suitor after suitor Nahri had met and managed to frighten off. Apparently her eagerness to practice medicine and her quick tongue were intimidating to the high society men of London. She felt her distaste for them grow stronger with every passing day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only company Nahri had come to enjoy since she arrived was that of her cousin Jamshid and Nisreen. Jamshid for his good humor and kindness, Nisreen for her stories of her time as a physician’s assistant then nurse in an infirmary in Instanbul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that was it really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aside from the occasional letter from her grandfather back home there was little Nahri found to enjoy in city life. There was no excitement and no activities beyond piano, reading and drawing. Every so often her Aunt would take them to the opera but only she and her husband seemed to find joy there. Nahri mostly took the opportunity to tune out the voices that rang in her ears and focus instead on her thoughts. On her memories. On the things she had had so little time to reflect on since the death of her parents, the loss of their estate and her abrupt move to London.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think one more pull oughta do the trick, my lady,” Nisreen sighed. “Brace yourself. On three?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On three,” Nahri confirmed, clenching her jaw in anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. One, two -“ Nisreen pulled suddenly, stealing Nahri’s breath and taking her by surprise yet again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind her she heard Nisreen chuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another one of your tricks from your days in the infirmary?” Nahri smirked, straightening up with a labored exhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she turned Nisreen was grinning to herself with tight lips. Her lady’s maid walked to the wardrobe to select whatever extravagant gown Nahri was to wear to tonight’s function.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, as a matter of fact. Takes the edge off, I find!” she called.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand braced against her sore stomach, Nahri walked to the window, eager to inhale a breath of fresh air. To fill her lungs and regain what wind she had lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She unlatched the window and pushed it open with her fingertips, inhaling as deeply as her compacted chest would allow. It didn’t help much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dark eyes swept over the backlot of her Aunt’s estate. A garden overflowed with flowers and a single orange tree, beneath it a stone bench where Nahri sometimes stole a few moments alone when she could not sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The garden dissolved into brick leading to the stables. Inside were four horses and two carriages sheltered from the elements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elderly footman would no doubt start making preparations soon. Scenting the interior with rose potpourri and attaching the horses. Soon after he would change into his formal wear including that ridiculous powdered wig. How the man managed to maintain his energy, his ability to order about his lower ranking footman and quick retorts for Nahri’s barbed tongue she couldn’t imagine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was not elderly footman Hamar that Nahri spied from her second story window. Instead a much younger man emerged from the stables, between his lips a cigarette he deftly lit with a match before dropping it to smother under his boot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri’s eyes narrowed trying to further make out his features. As though Nisreen had yanked the strings of her corset a final time, Nahri’s breath was stolen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man’s skin glowed healthy and warm with a pallor similar to her own. He was rather average in height but his broad shoulders and confident posture gave him the air of someone who stood taller than any man she’d met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there were the sharp plains of his cheekbones, his chiseled jaw and the dark, flowing hair that was neatly smoothed from his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But perhaps most striking - so striking she could make it out from this distance - were his emerald hued eyes. Creator, he was more handsome than any man she had met yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a drag of his slim cigar then dug his hands in the pockets of his trousers. Nahri took a moment to appreciate the manner that his silk, navy vest hugged his waist and chest. The way that the sleeves of his white, linen shirt hung loose but fell over the slopes of his strong arms gracefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bit her lip and found that his eyes slowly drifted up to her window. He spied her and removed the cigar from his lips, exhaling a plume of smoke and tilting his head to the side, studying her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abruptly he realized that she was… indeed a woman. She smiled at his suddenly abashed gaze - amused at the way he averted his eyes and strolled back to the stables.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man became very enamored with the chestnut colored horse. Nahri found herself unable - no, unwilling - to look away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The signature sky blue,” Nisreen stated, returning to Nahri’s side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri did not pay the dress a single glance. Yes, yes, it was a pale but vivid blue, silk with capped sleeves and an embroidered empire waist. It would pair nicely with her long silk gloves and when her dark mane of curly hair was pinned up it would showcase the slender slope of her neck. How was it possible to have so many dresses that were so indistinguishable?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to Hamar?” Nahri asked with little tact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The footman?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, the nursemaid,” Nahri deadpanned. She tore her gaze to Nisreen who bristled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He resigned a week ago, my lady. Decided to retire to his daughter’s country home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he has been replaced by…” Nahri prompted, folding her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A military man that Master Kaveh knows from his days with the battalion,” Nisreen explained through those tight lips of hers. “A general, no less. General Darayavahoush e-Afshin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri arched a brow before turning her attention back to the stables where the General affectionately stroked the nose of a horse. “How does such a high ranking and fit gentleman become a footman?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve heard whispers of a discharge from service. Not sure why though,” Nisreen shrugged. “He doesn’t appear to be the lazy type, that much is sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri assessed the handsome General again. For the first time in weeks, intrigued by something. Someone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“General Darayavahoush,” she said to no one in particular.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would need to make an opportunity to speak with him at some point. Quite a study. A very good looking study at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that’s all very well, my lady. But we still need to get you dressed, your hair done and your makeup on,” Nisreen said, gesturing to the white robe that was slung over the sofa. “Your Aunt will have my head if you aren’t ready within the hour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a final look at the handsome General, Nahri grabbed her robe and slipped it on. She was still very aware of the tightness of her corset as she approached her vanity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you my Aunt’s oldest friend?” Nahri queried, lowering herself to sit on the plush stool. “That ought to afford you some leniency.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nisreen exhaled again, hanging the evening gown by the floral embossed folding screen. “I try to parsol out your Aunt’s grace and save it for when I truly need it.” Nisreen came to stand behind Nahri, her warm but stony expression visible in the vanity mirror. Her careful fingers, steady and practiced from her experience in medicine, lifted Nahri’s curls off the back of her neck. “Let us begin, my lady. The sooner we start the sooner we finish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Nahri replied, the General’s green eyes dancing in the back of her mind. “Let’s begin.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nahri sneaks out to the garden only to be surprised by a most welcome face</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After Nahri heard the last door close and the click of a lock, she waited an additional forty minutes before slipping out of bed. She padded across the cool wooden panels of her bedroom floor and grabbed her robe, slipping it on over her nightgown and knotting it around her waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her footsteps were silent as she crept down the moonlit halls then descended the steps in her silk slippers. It had been hours since the ball, hours since Lord Parvez had stepped on her toes and still her feet ached. Her mind raced with thoughts that kept her awake. It was the perfect night for a trip to the garden where she could clear her head until her eyelids became heavy beneath the night shadows of the orange tree.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened the back door noiselessly and shut it behind her. Her eyes flickered to the stables and down the drive, searching for any lingering servants. No one in sight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Into the garden she went, the uneven ground beneath her feet familiar and welcome. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She found her seat atop the smooth, stone bench beneath the orange tree and leaned back on her palms. Nahri tilted her head back feeling the night breeze against her cheeks and closing her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tried to forget the hands that had braced the small of her back tonight, the fingers that had weaved with her own as she forced a smile and pranced about the dance floor. The wanting eyes of every eligible man who saw her only as a prize to be won, a doll at their disposable, a pretty wife and a mother to their heirs. She had learned many months ago that none of them were interested in a twenty year old woman of ambition. Especially one with the ambition of becoming a physician. She was dangerous but also useless and a waste of a dance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri opened her eyes but only so that she could roll them skyward. There were many reasons she wished her parents were still alive, but one of the more practical reasons was so that she could regain the opportunity to practice medicine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a soft scratch and a brief flicker of light that Nahri caught from the left corner of her eye. She turned her head, preparing to dismiss a servant or run for her life, only to see Darayavahoush, a slim cigar between his lips, the tip covered by his cupped palm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up and caught her gaze, freezing in his tracks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He no longer wore his formal attire, the hair that had been smoothed back into a neat ponytail now loose and tumbling just above his shoulders. He fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt that had been rolled up to his forearms and even in the dark Nahri could see he was flushing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good evening,” she said with a nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Darayavahoush dropped his hand, offering a bow of his head. “Forgive me, my lady. I was unaware you were here,” he said with an obvious attempt to keep his voice even. “I shall take my leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he could so much as turn, Nahri spoke up. “No, I insist. Stay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara’s brows shot up. “My lady, if someone were to find us alone they would assume-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well then it is fortunate for us that they all sleep,” Nahri said easily. “And I would appreciate the company.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And you intrigue me, sir…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Footman seemed to contemplate the situation with some trouble. Nahri could be very persuasive though, and from her days where desperate means had called for desperate measures, she knew exactly how to get her way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As one of the lady’s of the Nahid house I insist that you stay,” she said. Nahri feigned an innocent smile. “And I would feel much safer if I were in the presence of a former military man at this hour. I’m sure my Uncle would be most appreciative to have me under his friend’s protection.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hesitation on Darayavhoush’s face faded and became… amused? Nahri found herself flustered. A rare position for her indeed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grinned, defeated and leaned against the base of the orange tree. “You think me so naive, my lady?” Darayavahoush asked, quirking a brow. “I’m not one of your suitors. I can tell when I am being played with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri blinked in surprise, her cheeks heating with anger. No servant had spoken to her in such a fashion (with the rare exception of Nisreen). Darayavahoush was certainly new to the role of footman…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could think of no retort, so instead she said with a too sweet smile, “Welcome to the Nahid estate, Darayavahoush.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took a drag of his cigar, running his fingers through his hair. A deeply distracting gesture.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You may call me Dara,” he said, an expression of surrender in his eyes. “In private company of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri cocked her head to the side, a smirk on her lips. “Do you believe yourself my chaperone, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dara?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara’s eyes widened, no doubt at her brashness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri smiled, pleased with his reaction. “You are no ordinary footman,” she stated. “And I am no ordinary </span>
  <em>
    <span>lady.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused, gathering himself, then folded his arms. “Yes, your Uncle did mention you recently moved here from a rather bustling village in the country.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a hint of disapproval in his tone and Nahri could tell that her Uncle had divulged the desperate means she had resorted to in order to make coin. No doubt the upstanding Darayavahoush disapproved of lies and thievery.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did,” Nahri confirmed. “And you are a former military man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We both are wearing masks, it seems.” She turned on the bench to face him. “Would you like to know what is behind mine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara’s brows furrowed briefly as though considering her proposal deeply. After another moment of careful contemplation and a steady inhale from his cigar, he spoke again, smoke curling from his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose just this once such informal conversation can be allowed,” he grumbled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri beamed. “My father was a town physician, I was his apprentice - to inherit his practice some day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She waited for his shock - the surprise at a woman interested in medicine to play on his face… but it did not come.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You do not seem… taken aback,” Nahri said suspiciously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara shook his head. “No, on the battlefield it was not uncommon to come across women medics. All hands are appreciated in the barracks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There are women medics?” Nahri asked, baffled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I met two. There are not many,” he grimaced. “As I said, in war you need all the help you can get.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, it’s much the same in the country. No one much cares about the gender of the town physician so long as they have one.” Her lips twisted. “But it was suggested I take on a male doctor to assist me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The notion was foolish and would have only served to take pennies from her pocket, but it was a small sacrifice in exchange for the opportunity to practice medicine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So?” Dara began. “What happened? Why have you come here following the death of your parents instead of inheriting the practice?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She noticed he left out any mention of her conning, but there was still a pang of anger and disappointment in her gut. She swallowed the lump in her throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, there were debts after my parents passed and the estate, the practice were both taken from me. And here I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cigar dimmed, Dara plucked it from his lips, dropping it to the stone walkway and stamping it out with his boot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes remained on his feet. “Do you mind if I ask how they passed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri shook her head, grateful for the opportunity to speak of her past - to unload. “They fell ill funny enough. There was nothing to be done about it - not even my father knew what to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is unfortunate,” Dara remarked, and he sounded sincere. “I am very sorry for your loss.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As am I,” Nahri blurted. She felt the forlorn expression on her face and quickly rearranged it, unwilling to remain vulnerable. “So now I find myself endeavoring to marry a wealthy man that may at the very least indulge my passion for medicine and support me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how is that search going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri scoffed. “It sounds like you already know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am familiar with the men of high society though I’ve never been one myself,” Dara murmured. “They do not appreciate being… upstaged.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the first time in a very long time Nahri felt as though someone truly cared. As though someone understood. As though someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to understand. There was a stinging sensation in her eyes and she vaguely wanted to embrace the man. She refrained smiling wryly at him and attempting to appear indifferent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So it goes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will make your own way,” Dara said. “I am certain of it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You hardly know me, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know enough,” he asserted. “You know what you want. You don’t seem the type to give up. The will to succeed will get you farther than you think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both uncomfortable and delighted at the man’s unsolicited confidence in her, Nahri found herself blushing. He appeared almost indifferent. As though the statement was an observation and not an attempt at flattery.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hadn’t realized it until that moment. The absence she had been feeling that she assumed was the result of losing her parents had been something else entirely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What had been absent was not only the presence of her family but the presence of hope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And this stranger’s blind confidence… it had reassured her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eager to shift the topic and ease the fluttering in her stomach, Nahri cleared her throat. “What of you? What lies behind the mask you wear, General?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave her a stern look. “I’m no longer a military man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what are you?” she probed. “You play the part of a footman well but it isn’t what you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you always this nosy?” Dara asked quietly. His emerald eyes went skyward, the moonlight filtering through the leaves of the trees and dancing across the chiseled plains of his face. “Does it matter what I am, my lady?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nahri,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she corrected. “At least now. In private, as you said.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nahri.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way her name sounded on his lips nearly made her gasp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t feel particularly keen to divulge the details of my past but I suppose, the long and short of what lies behind the mask of footman, is a man seeking to be… more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“More than what?” Nahri asked softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ghost of a smile played on his lips. “More than who I was made to be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri felt her forehead crease in curiosity. He looked back to her, that smug smile on his face resurfacing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is all I am willing to share with you. I dare say that I am not nearly so bold or forthcoming as you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t stop herself or the grin that began to spread across her lips at the sarcastic tone of his voice. “For now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s smug smile softened. “Is that an invitation to continue our conversations?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri raised her chin a fraction. “I am friendly with all the staff,” she said pointedly. “And I quite enjoy your company.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For now,” he echoed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She snorted and for a moment they sat in silence. The sound of the breeze ruffling the leaves and the squeaking of the lanterns in the stables filling the air. The house that had felt like a gilded cage suddenly seemed much less threatening knowing that this timid but audacious Footman was present.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean it though. I should like to speak with you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We shall. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>your family’s footm-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like this,” Nahri clarified. “And before you refuse me, consider that we could both benefit from one another’s company.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that so?” he chuckled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Confidence made her chest swell with pride. “If I’ve learned anything from my time here in high society life, it is that people like us are hard to come by.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“People like us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Outsiders.” Nahri couldn’t help the hopefulness that colored her tone. “Perhaps we may… find comfort in one another’s company. As friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Friends,” he mused. “I suppose there’s nothing… necessarily inappropriate about friendship between us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take it from a lady of society, that is perfectly permissible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man laughed again, a gruff noise, then extended a hand to Nahri. She took it, standing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara gave it a firm shake, dipping his head. “Friends, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An honor,” Nahri yawned, suddenly finding her limbs rather heavy - her racing mind at ease. “I think I’ll retire.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wise of you. I imagine that being so prying is taxing,” Dara said with approval. He released her fingers. “Until next time, Nahri.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Until next time, Dara.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A few weeks and a few conversations after the midnight, garden encounter, Nahri attends a ball where she dances with Lord Muntadhir. Dara has his opinions on the matter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lord Muntadhir al-Qahtani was a wonderful dance partner. He moved with grace and intent. He held your gaze and made you feel as though you were walking on air. His grip on your hand was firm but not too tight and the way his palm rested on the small of your back was commanding yet gentle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only issue with Muntadhir as a dance partner - at least for Nahri - was that he demonstrated this behavior with every woman at the ball. Maybe they were too enraptured with him to notice, each of them believing they’d stolen a special moment with the handsome Lord, but Nahri could see through it plainly. After all, Nahri’s desperate times before her Aunt had whisked her away had trained her well in reading the wealthy and the charming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The song ended and Nahri nearly forgot to curtsy to Muntadhir. Rather than scowling as any other entitled Lord may have, the man offered an amused grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri gave him a grateful nod and left the dance floor heading for the banquet table to have another glass of champagne. Her Aunt would be displeased at her “overindulgence” but Nahri had danced with six suitors tonight. That had to afford her some leniency.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m quite the accomplished dancer,” Muntadhir said from behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri turned, her brows raised as she took a sip from her glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I gather if it is not my skills that have caused you to flee the dance floor it is that you do not care for dancing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well spotted,” Nahri said flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muntadhir laughed, goodnaturedly. “You strike me as the sort to much prefer conversation over merriment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I prefer most anything over dancing,” she corrected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muntadhir offered his arm. “Such as?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fighting a labored exhale, Nahri accepted the Lord’s arm with a tight smile. He began to lead her about the room like a prize mare, showing all that he’d captured the attention of Lady Manizeh’s niece. The girl rumored to be untamable, unwilling to marry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reading,” Nahri finally said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” he remarked. “My family has quite the library.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri did not dignify the statement with a response. He and every other high society family had an impressive library. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I suppose what you miss most is your family’s practice and being able to study alongside your father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri looked to Muntadhir with wide eyes. An unexpected observation to say the least. He looked quite pleased with himself at her reaction and Nahri bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a satisfied smile of her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do miss that,” she admitted softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” the Lord began, and Nahri held her breath (with the assistance of her corset), wondering if he would make the offer none had dared to yet, “I assure you that we have many books on the subject of medicine in our library. I even have a few physician friends who would be happy to explain their practices for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri closed her eyes, heart sinking. When she opened them, Muntadhir was staring at her with furrowed brows, perhaps realizing he had said the wrong thing. Nahri’s eyes flitted from him to her Aunt and Uncle in the corner. They were watching Nahri hungrily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri averted her gaze, spying the corridor that led to exit doors of the grounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Nahid?” Muntadhir said, voice tinged with concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri halted, turning to face Muntadhir. “A kind offer. If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could accompany you,” Muntadhir suggested with a hasty glance to his father at the opposite end of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri avoided the temptation to look at Ghassan’s face - no doubt his barrel chest puffed out to intimidate his son. “That’s alright. Thank you for your company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri curtsied with Muntadhir returning a bow, his forehead creased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Nahri headed for the corridor, a hand snagged her upper arm, nails pinching her skin through her long silk gloves. She looked to the owner, unsurprised to see her Aunt fixing her with a stern glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Compose yourself. One more dance tonight and not with the Qahtani boy,” she said with a feigned smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri nodded. “I’ll return shortly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Manizeh released her and Nahri briefly wondered if anyone could tell that their conversation had been so heated. Her Aunt was very skilled in appearing the model of a firm but fair matriarch, rather than the severe master lurking beneath the surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri looked both ways down the corridor, ensuring it was vacant, before fleeing to the moonlit grounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside a cobblestone courtyard was enclosed by hedges with a fountain at its center. A few couples inhabited the small area sharing hushed conversations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri exited the warmly lit area with haste, the sound of the music became softer and softer with every step, until it was nothing but muffled strings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri’s heels sunk into the grass. Angrily she kicked them off, bending to gather them and then hooking them on the tips of her fingers. One stroll to the end of the grounds and back ought to take fifteen to twenty minutes. A little longer than appropriate but preferable to her frowning the rest of the night. Her aunt would value a sunny disposition for her next suitor over a lengthier attendance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night dew felt soothing beneath Nahri’s feet, easing the aching in her heels slightly. She lifted the hem of her dress with her right hand, ensuring it wouldn’t become too damp then set off towards the line of pear trees. Nahri prayed she didn’t happen upon any scandalous rendezvous that would end in a couple pleading with her for silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercifully, upon further inspection, the tree line was vacant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri let her gloved finger tips touch the bark of the tree, took a deep, steadying breath, and turned to head back to the Bahram Mansion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Striding across the grounds she made out a strapping and familiar figure. A plume of smoke emitted from his lips and between his fingers a small cigar burned brightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corner of Nahri’s lip hitched up. “You know, I’m no physician, but I don’t believe inhaling smoke is good for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara halted in his tracks and took a long drag of the cigar, exhaling a stream of smoke with a grin. He looked at her and Nahri felt her stomach flutter briefly. She closed the distance between them, squaring her shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m no member of high society,” he began, “but </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t believe</span>
  </em>
  <span> strolling the grounds at night, on your own, is appropriate.” Dara smirked, but his eyes betrayed genuine concern. “Or being alone with a man for that matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Being alone with a suitor is indeed ill-advised,” Nahri nodded. “But you are my family’s Footman. For all anyone knows I could be asking you to have the carriage brought around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara cast a doubtful and disapproving look her way, but Nahri was not so easily defeated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does your impropriety know no bounds, Lady Nahri?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come now, we’re only friends,” she shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saw his resolve vanish and the tense line of his shoulders relax. With a sigh, he gestured back to the estate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall I walk you back? To ensure your safety of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Nahri answered promptly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara snorted and started leisurely walking towards the courtyard. “I take it you are not enjoying the ball?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never do,” she said bitterly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem to be particularly disappointed with this one…” Dara paused then looked down to her with a grimace. “Shall I loosen someone’s carriage wheels?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri laughed in spite of herself and the smile that lit Dara’s eyes at her reaction made great strides to improve her mood. Her conversation with Muntadhir now seemed almost comical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord Muntadhir…” Nahri began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara groaned, eliciting another laugh from Nahri before she continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He attempted to woo me with the promise of books and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>generous </span>
  </em>
  <span>offer to have his physician friends </span>
  <em>
    <span>explain </span>
  </em>
  <span>their practices to me - all in exchange for </span>
  <em>
    <span>my hand</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you expect from a Qahtani boy?” Dara drawled. “Are you still holding out for a high society brat to grant you some sort of medical occupation? I hate to break it to you, but the closest you’ll get to surgery marrying nobility is stitching together dresses in a modiste’s shop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri frowned at him. “I didn’t take you for such a defeatist. Weren’t you the one who assured me that I’d make my own way in the world one way or another?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara gave her a look. “I never suggested you would be able to by marrying someone of high society. Such an idea would be foolish to even consider..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and how shall I be able to practice medicine, Dara?” Nahri asked with feigned curiosity. “By way of marriage to a doctor? You know they are married to their work…” She shook her head. “What I need is money and that can’t be gained without a husband.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The estate drew nearer and Nahri found their pace was slowing significantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Dara? What do you suggest?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was even but strained. “I suggest marrying a man of modest means who is rich in </span>
  <em>
    <span>integrity</span>
  </em>
  <span>. What he cannot provide you with money, he would provide you in support.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Someone like you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara stopped just short of the hedges that surrounded the courtyard, Nahri pausing beside him. Avoiding his gaze, she slipped on her shoes, fingers trembling. How this Footman undid Nahri. How he made Nahri’s mind wander. It was absurd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he faced her, his knuckles brushed against her own. Nahri inhaled sharply in response and Dara took a step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apologies,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri only shook her head in dismissal, but found herself trying to memorize his touch. The warmth of his fingers through her silk gloves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So? Shall I return to the ball? Ask one of the senior servants to dance?” Nahri quipped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her surprise, Dara did not appear amused. He ducked his head then finally met her eyes. His stare was blazing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is not my place to say, Nahri. Do as your heart commands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri’s lips parted in surprise. Dara’s ardent stare did not falter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not throw away your gift or waste it on a man unworthy of you.” He straightened. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what I suggest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri held his stare, her heart pounding as she fought the urge to look away. The way he stared at her now was so different from weeks ago when they had first met in the garden. It wasn’t merely curious or concerned. It was pressing, intense, </span>
  <em>
    <span>keen</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The muffled sound of the music within the ballroom grew and in the courtyard a woman laughed. Dara blinked, looking at his boots and Nahri felt her chest tighten as she willed him to meet her eyes again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjoy the remainder of the ball, Nahri,” he said with a polite bow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri watched, breathless, as he strolled back across the grounds, his form bathed in moonlight. He did not look back at her.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sometime after the ball at the Bahram Mansion, Jamshid and Dara come to Nahri for medical aid after a pub brawl. The cause behind Dara’s involvement in the altercation surprises Nahri.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>First there was a click, then a stumble, then a crash, then a laugh and then the concerned murmurs of servants. Nahri tried her best to ignore the noise from the comfort of her bed, focusing on the branches of the trees swaying in the night breeze just outside her window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there was a knock on her door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment she thought that she may have heard incorrectly. No one would knock on her door in the middle of the night. It was likely just the sounds of the city. A late night carriage ride or one of the horses being restless in the stables.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then the knock came again, soft but urgent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then some low-voiced whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brows furrowed in confusion, Nahri slipped out of bed, grabbing her dressing robe off of the sofa and wrapping it around her tightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opened the door just a crack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, a bloody nosed Jamshid stood, his arm draped over Dara’s shoulders as the Footman seemed to be bracing him to stand upright. Her cousin’s eyes were glassy and bloodshot and Dara’s forehead sported a nasty cut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening to you both,” Nahri said slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara grimaced. “Your cousin found himself in a brawl at the pub. He refused to see a hospital so late in the evening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And,” Jamshid slurred, “we have a perfectly good physician in house.” He smiled drowsily at Nahri then whispered: “That’s you, Nahri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I figured,” Nahri smirked, opening the door wider.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waved them in hurriedly, peeking out into the corridor to ensure her Aunt and Uncle hadn’t been roused by all the quiet commotion. Their door remained closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri shut the door as Dara and Jamshid shuffled over to the sofa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need some light,” Nahri said as she crossed to her dresser.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara grabbed the oil lamp from beside her bed. He twisted the knob, casting a warm glow from the coffee table onto Jamshid’s limp form, draped over the sofa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri removed her father’s weathered physician bag from the depths of her slip drawer then went to sit on the other side of Jamshid, placing the bag on the coffee table with care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took his face in her hands gently, trying to better examine the damage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A broken nose,” she murmured observing the slight bruising beneath his eyes. Her eyes moved to his bloodied mustache then his swollen mouth. “A busted lip…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri was vaguely aware of Dara’s calculating gaze as she lifted Jamshid’s hand eye level. Her stomach flipped and she gently pressed against each of her cousin’s fingers. Jamshid let out a discontented grumble sobering her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some bruising on the knuckles. Nothing split or broken though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Dara chuckled. “The worst right hook I’ve ever seen. He should stick to archery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will I live?” Jamshid grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri snorted, setting down his hand and leaning over to open her medicine bag. “Only just.” She removed a glass bottle that contained a grey and potent ointment, another bottle of clear liquid and a worn rag. Her eyes flickered to Dara. “I’ll need some cool and warm water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Footman nodded dutifully and exited her bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What on earth did you do to get into a proper pub fight?” Nahri sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamshid winced. “Does it matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri arched a challenging brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you must know, family honor was called into question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got in a brawl… for our </span>
  <em>
    <span>family honor?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she asked skeptically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri highly doubted it was the entire family. It was likely about her. With every passing ball, high society seemed to like her less and less for her “uncompromising behavior” and “indignance.” Jamshid’s expression betrayed him and Nahri laughed under her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, what’d they say this time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you must know,” Jamshid began with a grunt, “there was the question of when I would take a wife and then an unflattering remark about the barmaid. That’s when I shoved a man.” He sighed. “Then he punched me so I punched him… and he asked if...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamshid stopped, his eyes pained. Nahri tilted her head to the side knowingly. Whatever remark had followed had been worse than the first and was likely about her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If… I recommended using such a technique to erm… acquiesce you into accepting a proposal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the hesitant expression on his face, Nahri could tell Jamshid had expected her to recoil or even gasp. Instead she rolled her eyes. Why some men believed that violence was the key to their desires she would never understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s when Darayavahoush got involved,” Jamshid groaned. “Knocked the man down proper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri’s head jerked up. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One punch from Darayavahoush and the gent fell down cold. Then another man took a swing at him, knocked him in the head then hit me and the rest is a blur, cousin. I admit I had some too many dr-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Nahri said with an errant wave of her hand. “You said Darayavahoush got involved at the mention of </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sly grin spread on Jamshid’s face causing him to hiss in pain. “Yes, he was very keen to defend your honor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri felt her heart flutter. How many were so quick to defend her name? The name of a woman unwilling to submit and conform. An annoyance to the high society way of life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As was I, in case you care,” Jamshid added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri smiled softly at him, brushing some hair from his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she could ask for more details, her door opened and Dara entered holding two bowls. One steaming with hot water. He set them down on the coffee table with ease then reclaimed his seat by Jamshid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri set to work cleaning Jamshid’s wounds then applying the putrid ointment her father had sworn by. When the time came to set his broken nose, she made him bite down on Dara’s belt (which he surrendered without question).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the best I can do,” Nahri said brushing her hands off on Jamshid’s already ruined shirt. “Shall we get you to bed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes,” Jamshid groaned. He tilted his head back on the sofa. “Just let me… rest my eyes…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her cousin trailed off, falling limp and snoring quietly. Dara bit back a laugh, raising a fist to his lips. Nahri glanced at knuckles, bloodied and split. He’d obviously been more successful with the blows he’d thrown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowned. “You’re in bad shape as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara examined his knuckles casually and gave a dismissive shrug. Pursing her lips, Nahri tapped the spot above her eyebrow where Dara’s cut was sticky with blood. He touched a finger to it, flinching just slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me at least clean the wounds. I’m not saying I need to sew you up or anything,” she said, slipping off the sofa to sit beside the table. Nahri patted the spot in front of her. “I won’t bite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking slightly chagrined, the Footman lowered himself to sit on the floor in front of her. She removed another clean, tattered rag from the leather bag, dipping it in the bowl of warm water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me start with your knuckles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearing his throat, Dara set his fist atop the table for her. She could see his cheeks redden ever so slightly. She couldn’t blame him. Her own heart was beating unnecessarily fast with the close proximity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri inhaled a steadying breath and began to dab at the dried blood on his knuckles. Her eyes flicked up to his to see if he was cringing, but he sat still as stone, the light of the oil lamp casting shadows over his sharp features. Her finger brushed against his thumb and his fist clenched at the contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax your fist,” Nahri said softly. “You may tear the skin more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara nodded, obeying her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was kind of you to come to my cousin’s aid,” Nahri said, continuing to wipe at the crusting blood. “He’s an accomplished archer and a fine shot, but a boxing champion, he isn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That he is not,” Dara smirked, casting a wary glance at Jamshid. “Is it alright for him to be sleeping? He took a hard blow to the head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri nodded. “Yes, we’ll wake him to take him back to his room and I’ll check his eyes then. I don’t think he has a concussion. Just drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, he is usually a good judge of his drink but I fear tonight that he grew overzealous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the looks of it, you did too,” Nahri said pointedly. She dipped the rag in the clear liquid of her bottle. “The way he tells it you practically saved the day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And leapt at the chance to defend my honor…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“As the family Footman it is my duty to ensure that all his needs are met,” Dara said, nodding at Jamshid’s prone form. “Including the need of an extra set of fists.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri finished disinfecting his cuts and began dabbing the ointment on his knuckles with her bare fingers. Dara nearly recoiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d use the rag but it’s too wet now. The ointment will dilute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of-of course,” he stammered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amused at his reaction, but still sympathetic, Nahri changed the subject. “Did you get in many brawls during your time in the military?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara had softened to Nahri in many ways, growing more casual and open with every passing conversation. But his time in the military had been an exception. He still refused to elaborate as to his discharge and how he became a Footman after being a General. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have anything to bind your knuckles with, I’m afraid…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is no matter,” Dara said dismissively. “I can manage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’ll just… set to work on that cut.” Nahri barely recognized the timid tone in her voice as she pointed limply to his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara stiffened as she rinsed the rag in the bowl of cool water, the already orange water growing darker, then dipped it in the warm water. Hesitantly, she leaned closer to him. She avoided meeting his emerald eyes for fear that the butterflies in her stomach would only worsen, focusing solely on the cut above his brow. Very slowly, he inclined his head so she could reach the wound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall I… count to three?” Nahri said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One, two…” As Nisreen had taught her, Nahri touched her cloth to the wound before the final count.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara chuckled. “Clever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said primly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment of levity, however brief, had certainly lessened the intensity of the moment. Nahri carefully cleaned the cut, lost in her reeling mind. The nearness of Dara was intoxicating. So much so that she could barely focus. If the thrill of him watching her practice on Jamshid had sent her heart pounding, his being tended to by her was almost rib-shattering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t stop herself. “Jamshid said you started trading blows when a man insulted me.” Nahri felt his eyes sweep from the floor to her face, but she refused to meet them. “I suppose I should thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He replied without pause. “You needn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri felt her cheeks burn as she began to apply the disinfectant to the wound. Dara’s gaze shifted again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t go ruining your pretty face on my behalf. I’m not worth it, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words had been bitter but also a jest. Still, the Footman’s fingers fell over her’s. She met his eyes in alarm to see that they blazed with conviction. Nahri froze in his tender but firm grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His expression was fierce, but his tone was gentle, “You are more than some mare to be tamed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They held each other’s stares for another moment, and Nahri wondered if perhaps he would kiss her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But no. He released her hand gently, allowing her to resume her work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that about ruining my pretty face?” he asked with the hint of a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I can save it just this once.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri set down the rag in the bowl of cold water and picked up the bottle of ointment. Her fingers tingled in anticipation at the idea of her bare skin upon his face. He inhaled sharply as she leaned in without preamble and began to coat the wound in the foul-smelling ointment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fortunate,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I should hate to lose my one redeeming quality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri grinned at him. “You would still have your humor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You admit that you find me funny, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I ever denied you a laugh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thankfully, no.” He seemed to catch himself and the insinuation he had made, for he hastily added: “My pride could not take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri ducked her head to hide her flaming cheeks and rinsed her hands off. When she looked back up, Dara seemed similarly flustered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good as new,” she nodded. “It shouldn’t scar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes lingered on her lips and Nahri was suddenly very aware of the low neckline of her nightgown. After another moment, Dara inhaled sharply, seeming to sober himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should see your cousin back to his rooms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri flattened her palms on her thighs, gathering herself and calming her racing mind. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara gingerly woke Jamshid while Nahri began to put away her father’s medicines. She inspected Jamshid’s eyesight and asked a few simple questions, confirming her suspicions that he was more endangered by a hangover than a concussion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This shall remain between us three, correct?” Nahri asked, guiding them to her door and into the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course,” Jamshid slurred. “Thank you, Nahri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Nahr-Lady Nahri,” Dara amended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he supported her cousin through their trek down the corridor, Nahri balled her fist trying to recall the feeling of his skin against hers.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lol you thought they were gonna kiss didn’t you?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nahri has tea with Lady Zaynab who reveals a secret from Dara’s past. When Nahri confronts Dara their fragile relationship is put to the test.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lady Zaynab al-Qahtani was speaking, but Nahri was certainly not listening. Her eyes were trained on her family’s footman that conversed in the back of “Khayzur’s Tea Shop” with the owner himself. Apparently they were old friends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara hadn’t spoken to Nahri in over a week, avoiding her at almost every turn. There always seemed to be some servant who needed his help or an errand he needed to run any time she so much as looked in his direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri took a sip of her tea, eyes narrowing as Dara scowled at something Khayzur had said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even scowling, your footman is more handsome than both my brothers combined…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri’s gaze snapped up to Zaynab who was eyeing Dara from behind the rim of her tea cup, a sly smile on her lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure what you mean,” muttered Nahri.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zaynab released a musical laugh that made two gentlemen’s heads turn and the women accompanying them seethe with envy. Effortlessly Zaynab was the picture of perfection and doubtless, one of the most coveted picks of the season.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, please,” Zaynab said, paying no mind to the eyes on her. “Muntadhir may believe that you’re simply trying to ‘leave him wanting for more,’ but it’s obvious to me that you’ve got your sights set elsewhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri felt her cheeks heat. This was only her second outing with Zaynab and likewise, the second time she made Nahri feel as though she were standing before the woman naked. Surprisingly, this didn’t cause Nahri to be averse to Zaynab’s company. Honestly, she didn’t mind her at all - which was more than Nahri could say for the rest of high society.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Am I wrong?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri took a gulp of her tea, searing her throat. “It’s quite an assertion. An absurd one…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it?” Zaynab asked, her head tilted to the side. “Because while a lady of society wedding a simple footman </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be an unseemly notion, a lady of high society wedding a former </span>
  <em>
    <span>military</span>
  </em>
  <span> man is perfectly reasonable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri felt an involuntary surge of hope flow through her. When Zaynab put it that way…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about a </span>
  <em>
    <span>discharged</span>
  </em>
  <span> military man?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zaynab’s eyes danced and Nahri could tell that these sorts of conversations were the ones she lived for. Whispers of rumors and romance, playing politics from beneath her lace gloves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A military man is a military man. That’s all they’ll care about. He’s a hero,” Zaynab added with a shrug. Her brows furrowed. “Discharged, you say? Where did you hear that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri’s eyes flickered back to Dara who was laughing at something Khayzur had said. He was impractically handsome when he smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t hear it from anyone. But look at him. Could you see him simply resigning from his rank?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Zaynab said slowly. “But my brother, Alizayd, knows of the Afshin family. Darayavahoush comes from a long line of military men.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri sat up straight, almost leaning over the table. She knew she should have reined in her reaction, but the promise of answers about the mysterious Footman were too tempting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zaynab smiled, pleased with herself, but there was something in her eyes that expressed she was reluctant to relay her knowledge. “I suppose you’ve heard that he was a General, correct?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Zaynab began with some hesitation, “he wasn't a General for long. At the time he held that particular rank Darayavahoush was one of the youngest ever. But a few years in, he was demoted. Became a ‘desk man’ as they call them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri blinked. It was difficult to imagine the strapping footman behind a desk, filling out forms and writing letters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri inclined her head, lowering her voice. “Did your brother say why he was demoted?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zaynab shook her head. “No. That’s all he told me. That and…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri’s brows shot up at the trepidation that had crept into Zaynab’s voice. She had to know. Dara had never disclosed to her his past, and whenever she’d asked him to elaborate he always withheld. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri was </span>
  <em>
    <span>this close</span>
  </em>
  <span> to having answers and she was not above fixing Zaynab with a pleading look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zaynab grimaced, relenting. “Alizayd is… slightly judgmental at times. He told me that it would be prudent of me to avoid Darayavahoush.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was it? That was all she got? Nahri practically deflated in her seat, now left with more questions than answers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could try to get more out of my brother when he next writes, Lady Nahri.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri shook her head, the last thing she needed was a paper trail of her increasing interest in Dara. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lady Nahri.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she looked at Zaynab she was wearing a sheepish smile. Nahri nearly startled at the expression from the young woman who seemed to overflow with confidence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You may not intend on marrying Muntadhir, but that does not mean we cannot be friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Friends?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Zaynab said with another delicate laugh. “We have much more in common than you presume.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri quirked a brow - she found that hard to believe. “Really now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Nahri could inquire further, a tall and slim woman appeared behind Zaynab. Her lady’s maid, no doubt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My lady, we should leave for your fitting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Aqisa,” Zaynab said, dabbing the corners of her lips with a napkin. She gave Nahri a smile as she stood from her chair. “Perhaps we could meet again next week?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” Nahri nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she found herself genuinely hoping they would. There was something much needed and refreshing about Zaynab’s disregard for decorum.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once Zaynab had departed, Nisreen soon followed, asking Nahri if she was ready to head for the market. Nahri stood, eyes trained on Dara and Khayzur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A moment. I would actually like to speak with the owner about his tea. Perhaps acquire a box for the house.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My lady, I can see to that,” Nisreen said, pushing Nahri’s chair back in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’d like to pay my personal compliments. I’ll be just a moment.” When she looked at Nisreen she wore a wary expression. Nahri sighed. “Wait outside for me, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Muttering something about a “bossy disposition” Nisreen exited the tea shop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri made her way towards the back where the owner, a man appearing to be in his fifties, spoke with Dara. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara stood up straighter, pushing off the counter he had been lounging against. “Lady Nahri, shall I have your carriage brought ar-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That won’t be necessary. I’d like to walk to the market,” Nahri said, primly. She turned her attention to Khayzur who offered her a warm smile. “I wanted to offer my compliments to the owner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s smile broadened, he bowed his head briefly, quickly smoothing his greying hair away from his face. “Thank you, my lady. You had the hibiscus tea today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did. I’d actually like to secure a box of it, if I could.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Certainly. I’ll even throw in a sample of my personal favorite. A nice cardamom blend.” Khayzur nodded in Dara’s direction. “Warms the blood of those with a… stonier demeanor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara snorted, delighting Nahri.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, in that case, I’ll take a crate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Khayzur’s eyes widened. “A crate?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri shrugged, laughing. “Sure. Why not?” She looked at Dara. “My Footman will make short work of transporting it for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Khayzur agreed and headed off to his cellar, leaving Nahri and Dara alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should probably assist him-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Nahri said tersely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara’s expression was nonplussed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been avoiding me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ever since the night of the brawl you’ve gone out of your way to evade my company. Whatever for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lady Nahri, this is not an appropriate conversation,” Dara said, his voice low as he scanned the sitting room for any lingering eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her blood pounding in her ears and hungry for an explanation, Nahri continued in a hushed voice, “Is it because I asked about your military service?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nahri,” Dara hissed. He flinched, again casting another glance about the shop. “You would like to do this </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Khayzur was shuffling back into the lobby, a wooden crate in his arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara exhaled defeatedly, “The garden. Midnight.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Midnight did not come fast enough for Nahri. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d nearly stepped upon the noisy floorboard on the first-floor landing on her way outside she was so impatient.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure enough, the moment she closed the back door she turned and saw Dara leaning against the base of the orange tree, a cigar between his lips. She drew her robe tighter around herself as she felt a shiver creep down her spine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chin held high, Nahri approached him with purposeful steps before settling atop her stone bench. “Alright. Tell me the truth. No more lies.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve not </span>
  <em>
    <span>lied </span>
  </em>
  <span>to you,” Dara said firmly, a thin stream of smoke filtering out of his nose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine then. No more evading the truth.” She squared her shoulders, staring up at his hulking form with determination. “Why did you leave the military?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He arched a brow. “How do you know I left?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was right. She wasn’t supposed to know that, was she? Zaynab had imparted that bit of wisdom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri waved an errant hand. “That’s not the point. The point is, the night we met I told you exactly who I was and I know nothing about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask you to tell me who you were,” he snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri winced and she could see a flicker of guilt in his eyes. It was no matter. She would have her answers. She had no need for them to come with a smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened, Dara?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was silent for a moment, taking a long drag of his cigar. When he exhaled his eyes were closed, brows pinched together. “What does it matter, Nahri?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri set her jaw. “It matters to me who you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why? I am not your betrothed,” Dara snarled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His words were sharp, the jagged edges making her cringe. Nahri felt her eyes sting just slightly at the remark but swallowed the thickness in her throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara’s lips were pressed flat but his eyes were strained. “Nahri, I am your family’s footman. Nothing more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you weren’t always our footman, Dara,” Nahri insisted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was a monster.” Dara sneered, refusing to meet Nahri’s gaze. “Must I say more?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Nahri considered leaving it at that. Perhaps she did not need to know who he was beneath the mask of Footman. Perhaps this was enough. And were he merely her footman it would have been.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Dara was no longer just her footman. He hadn’t been for quite some time. From the moment they spoke in this very spot he had been more than that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri braced herself. “Yes, you must.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this Dara looked as though he’d been struck. He took another inhale of his cigar - nearly burning the rest of it to ash - then tossed it to the ground. Dara ground the toe of his boot to the smoldering remains, harder than necessary, and stared down at Nahri. His green eyes burned her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I come from a long line of military men, and when you have such a reputation you’ll find that promotions are in generous supply. So generous, that a man not yet twenty-two is made a General and awarded a harrowing mission to make a great name for himself. A name as great as his father’s…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri wanted to look away, to deny the intensity of his gaze, but he was drawing her in like a moth to the flame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And when you’re afraid and you’re eager to please, even safety is threatening,” his voice broke slightly, “so you order a </span>
  <em>
    <span>charge </span>
  </em>
  <span>on a village - </span>
  <em>
    <span>with cannons </span>
  </em>
  <span>- and the outcome is more civilian fatalities than enemies. Women, children, sons, daughters. All riddled with bullets and burns because to a young general, anything and any</span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> could be a spy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri’s mind struggled to catch up to his words, but Dara betrayed no signs of stopping. He cocked his head to the side as though challenging her, however, she could see his eyes were glistening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nobody questions the orders and if they do, they are outnumbered. After all, you come from a long line of successful military men. You have to know what you're doing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>right?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Dara laughed mirthlessly. “And even then, after you await punishment for your crimes, they merely send you off to a more comfortable arrangement where you are out of the way. All the while, your father, your </span>
  <em>
    <span>brother</span>
  </em>
  <span> who believed that you hung the moon, march to their deaths leading the men that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> failed.” Dara seized handfuls of his hair, looking away from Nahri. When he turned back to her, he was agonized. “And after </span>
  <em>
    <span>six years </span>
  </em>
  <span>you finally decide that enough is enough and then you leave, ready to put your head in a noose only for a willing hand to be extended to you. Only to be taken in and to meet someone who… who…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too many emotions were churning through Nahri. Horror. Revulsion. Pity. Fear. Longing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara let his hand fall limply at his side, gazing down at her hopelessly. “Someone who wants to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not your legacy, not your crimes, not your ghosts.” He shook his head. “Nahri, this cannot continue. Even if by some stretch of the imagination you </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted </span>
  </em>
  <span>to know me, a broken, monster of a man, this must end.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri wanted to pound her fists against his chest. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to stomp on his foot. She wanted to do all these things but she didn’t know why.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was it out of sadness? Desperation? Anger?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he was no longer a twenty-one year old General with a name to live up to. He was a lonely footman with a dead family. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dara, I don’t… I don’t know-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is fine, because I do,” he ground out. “From this night forward you are a lady of the house and I am your family’s footman. We shall never be more to each other than that. We never were in the first place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And that was all she could bear. Nahri hadn’t known she was so close to breaking, but when the tear rolled down her cheek she felt a shudder go down her spine. Nahri bit her lower lip to prevent it from trembling and for a moment she thought that he may apologize. His eyebrows were furrowed and she could see he’d also lost the battle with his own tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had been her escape. He had been the only person who </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw </span>
  </em>
  <span>her. The only one she could confess to without fear of judgment. The person who cared about what </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> wanted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now he was rejecting her. Sending her away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stood, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “You coward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckled ruefully. “What else did you think I was?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri recoiled at his tone, at the powerless expression on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you the night we met that I was trying to become more than who I was made to be,” Dara said hoarsely. “I may be a coward, but you are a silly girl for hearing that and ever considering that we were a match.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri shot to her feet, tears spilling onto her hot cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with the heel of her hand. Regret flickered on Dara’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I won’t bother with you in the future,” she sniffed, squaring her shoulders. “You were right. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>a monster and in more ways than one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At Dara’s struck expression Nahri turned on her heel and headed back inside, her face crumpling. She could feel his emerald eyes following her, but she did not look back.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ngl, I hated writing this chapter</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After their argument in the garden, Dara attempts to reconcile with Nahri in a most unexpected way</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, I listen to the Bridgerton soundtrack, Pride and Prejudice soundtrack and Vitamin String Quartet when writing these</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Nahri was feeling much better. Truly. The cold she’d succumbed to upon arrival to the Nahid Mansion just a few days ago was gone.</p><p>That said, her Aunt was taking no chances despite Nahri’s proclamations that fresh air would do her good. Tomorrow they were throwing a ball meant almost entirely for Jamshid and Nahri to secure engagements. The season was nearly over and neither had made much headway.</p><p>But with her Aunt and Uncle having departed for town to make arrangements for the ball, no one was around to stop Nahri from leaving the mansion. As long as she was careful to avoid the eyes of Nisreen, Jamshid and her Aunt’s lady’s maid she could walk the grounds and return with no one the wiser. It was a prudent decision, not only for her physical health, but also for her mentally.</p><p>She could not stand another minute alone in this room with nothing but a lukewarm cup of tea and her thoughts. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Dara’s desperate stare. Every time the birds outside stopped singing she heard his pained admissions echo in his ears.</p><p>Nahri clambered out of bed and recovered her coat from the wardrobe then slipped on her boots. </p><p>As she exited her room, she prayed she would be able to avoid him. They’d caught glimpses of one another over the past few weeks and the lack of emotion, the absence of their interactions was positively staggering in the worst possible way. Nahri knew of no other time her heart had ached so painfully than when Dara merely nodded to her, not a word spoken. </p><p>Closing her eyes and taking in a quick breath, Nahri exited her room. She glanced about the long corridor, ensuring that no one could bear witness to her escape. She was in the clear.</p><p>Only one kitchen servant spied her before she made it out to the grounds and they were always too absorbed in their work to stir up family drama.</p><p>The country air was brisk and thin, easy to breathe. The afternoon sun was hidden behind grey clouds that hinted at rain. She could afford one walk about the grounds before the weather worsened. Just to the gazebo overlooking the lake and back.</p><p>Walking across the grass Nahri tilted her head back, soaking up the warmth that had evaded her from the comfort of her room. Sunshine through the windows was nothing compared to its bare rays striking her cheeks.</p><p>
  <em> “...you are a silly girl…” </em>
</p><p>Nahri shut her eyes tight against the ghost of his words, swallowing the lump in her throat.</p><p>No, she wouldn’t think of him. After all, he was a monster, was he not? A man who had ordered a charge upon an innocent village. Women and children bludgeoned by gunpowder and cannonballs because he had been afraid.</p><p>But that’s not who he was to her. Not truly.</p><p>Years and years after he’d committed such an unforgivable atrocity and his family had paid the price, he’d become the only soul to understand her. To encourage her to have faith in herself and to pursue her passions. He’d never been anything less to her until that fateful night in the garden.</p><p>Time began to escape her. Nahri wasn’t certain if her Aunt and Uncle had returned yet, but her disregard for their opinion on the subject of her afternoon stroll was growing increasingly stronger. </p><p>She arrived at the stone gazebo and was disappointed to see that the sun was still hiding, depriving her of the heavenly scene that was the light reflecting off the surface of the lake. One of her favorite sights. </p><p>Nahri sighed heavily, leaning against one of the columns.</p><p>Overhead a crack of thunder erupted then one, two, three, a thousand raindrops began falling.</p><p>She was now gravely in danger of befalling her cold again. She’d need to wait out the storm in the gazebo and pray that if her Aunt and Uncle had returned they did not check to see if she was in her room.</p><p>“You will catch that cold again,” a musical voice said from behind her. “If we run, you can return to your room before anyone notices you have left.”</p><p>Slowly, Nahri turned, her fists clenched at her sides. Dara was just steps away beneath the cover of the gazebo. He appeared to have just escaped the rain. Unable to find any words, Nahri just stared at him, her gaze stern.</p><p>“Your Aunt and Uncle have returned. They were too enraptured in flower arrangements and table settings to check on you,” he said timidly. “So if we hurry, I can ensure you slip in unnoticed.”</p><p>“I am not your concern,” Nahri said, her voice toneless.</p><p>Dara released a labored exhale. “Nahri, I am your family’s footman-“</p><p>“And when are the whereabouts of a lady of the house a concern of the family footman?”</p><p>He froze and she could see his shoulders slump in defeat. So he had finally reached his breaking point. She could read it on his face.</p><p>So what? He’d spurned her. <em> He’d </em> turned <em> her </em>away. She had no pity and no desire to discuss, to forgive.</p><p>Then why did her chest ache? Why did her hands itch to grab him by his shirt and pull him to her?</p><p>Nahri crossed her arms. “I did not think anyone was aware that I had left.”</p><p>“Only me, Lady Nahri.”</p><p>She scoffed at the forced formality in his voice. “Are you so attuned to me? So worried for my safety? Why? After all, I’m only a <em> silly girl. </em>”</p><p>A muscle in Dara’s jaw twitched and he drew back ever so slightly. That was fine. Nahri had no regret. They were his own words.</p><p>“Nahri, I was rude. I will admit it.”</p><p>“Rude,” she echoed. “You were cruel - wicked.”</p><p>Dara nodded. “I was. I am guilty on both counts.”</p><p>“So you’re here to apologize then?” Nahri arched a challenging brow. </p><p>“I owe you more than that, my lady.” His voice was solemn, reverent. Dara took a step closer to her, she could see his hands were shaking. “I have spent days, weeks, watching you in agony. Pretending as though I so easily cast aside my affections.” </p><p>Nahri’s breath was stolen, her brows furrowing. What was this… declaration?</p><p>“Relieve me, Nahri,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I will take you away from them all. I have modest means but I will do everything I can to see that you are able to practice medicine.” He closed the remaining distance between them and for a moment she thought he may take her hand. “I’m asking for your hand.”</p><p>Stunned, Nahri’s eyes widened, then narrowed. She was filled with fury and sadness. A long moment passed where she considered the proposal, where she suppressed the desire she’d kept buried for so long to have him. </p><p>To let him devour her, body and soul.</p><p>Nahri blinked away the tears that burned her eyes. “You believe that an apology can fix all that you’ve done? All the pain that you’ve caused me?” She set her jaw. “Do not make the mistake of believing that you are the only one of us to have suffered.”</p><p>His voice was ardent. “Of course not.”</p><p>“Your regret does not assuage the agony you inflicted upon me, nor does it erase your past.”</p><p>Dara’s stern expression betrayed the wounded look in his eyes. “Is that your answer then? No?”</p><p>
  <em> No. </em>
</p><p>Through the thickness in her throat, Nahri replied, “I accept your apology but not your hand.” There was a pause that threatened to shake her resolve. She inhaled through her nose, steadying herself. “Too much has transpired, but I have missed our… friendship.”</p><p>Though Dara appeared disappointed, he nodded, taking a step back. “As have I.” When he met her gaze again, he was solemn. “And forgive me. I should not have asked for your hand. It was too bold of me. You are correct. An apology does not absolve me of my past. You… deserve more.”</p><p>Nahri raised her chin a fraction. “Quite right.”</p><p>
  <em> Ask me once more, sir. </em>
</p><p>But no. He’d proposed as an <em> apology. </em>Not out of love. Nahri may not have been leaping for the opportunity to find a husband, but when or if she ever did have one, she knew she wanted there to be love. Not regret.</p><p>A sheepish smile spread on his lips and Nahri’s heart melted. </p><p>“I have missed your quick wit.”</p><p>Still burning with longing, she answered with feigned nonchalance. “The absence of my barbed tongue has caused you such distress?”</p><p>“Indeed.”</p><p>After a pause, she summoned the courage to respond. “I have missed your bitterness.”</p><p>Dara laughed, a sad sound that made the corner of her lip hitch up. </p><p>“The rain is letting up,” he remarked softly. “We should take advantage and see you back to the house.”</p><p>Nahri nodded and they dashed through the rain together. With every step she felt regret settle in deeper and deeper.</p><p>She should have said yes, for she now feared he would not ask again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After the ball sleep evades Nahri and she visits the vacant ballroom only to receive an unexpected visit from Dara</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Takes place after the day following the previous chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The ballroom that had just hours ago been filled with people, light and music, was now empty. The glow of the candles were reduced to cool moonlight, filtering in through the tall windows and casting long shadows about the marble floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Devoid of livelihood and entertainment, Nahri found the ballroom of the Nahid country mansion much more appealing now. Especially with the absence of Lord Ghassan al-Qahtani’s son, Muntadhir. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inviting him tonight had been unavoidable. The scandal of excluding such a popular party guest would’ve casted much suspicion and certainly sent tongues wagging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri set her candle down on the mantle of the large fireplace and sighed, slowly making her way across the dance floor, towards the banquet table. Now cleared of all food and drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hoisted herself to sit atop it and look up at the high ceiling, painted and ornate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was truly a waste of a perfectly good man, Muntadhir al-Qahtani attempting to court Nahri. And for all his grandeur and boastfulness, Nahri could see that Muntadhir was powerless to his father’s demands. He possessed many valued qualities, but independence was not one of them. Muntadhir al-Qahtani clearly hungered for validation and approval from his father. After all, it had to be maddening to have every member of society utterly infatuated with him except the man who had raised him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How many men had Nahri danced with tonight? Six? Seven? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of them had proudly said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m an open minded and reasonable man. Any endeavor you wished to pursue, it would be yours, as long as you give me a son.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri had laughed in his face, attracting a few curious stares. The man had flushed in response and quickly took his leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A presumptuous and arrogant bargain to propose to her, a complete stranger. Give me your body until I have what I want and then you’ll be free to do as you wish. While Nahri could appreciate his business-like approach and while the offer was more generous than most, it was still repulsive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What she wouldn’t give for a large glass of brandy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri closed her eyes, inhaling a soothing breath through her nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all her hatred of balls and extravagance there was one person who had the potential to turn the entire night around. Who if by some miracle, had he entered the ballroom and offered his arm, the evening would’ve been almost enjoyable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dara had stood stoic as usual at the doors, anticipating any direction from her Uncle and departing to instruct the stable hands to bring about a carriage for whatever guest would be leaving next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had cut a striking figure in his navy suit. Nahri wondered if he would ever be allowed to attend one of these affairs. What it would be like to have his hand on her waist and his fingers intertwined with hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri wondered if Dara was still awake. If he was strolling the grounds with a cigar between his lips. To feel the damp grass between her toes and throw her head back with laughter at whatever joke he would tell would be pure heaven after tonight. After the exhausting performance she had to put forward and the polite giggles she’d released.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heavens, Nahri had missed his company more than she realized and she found herself suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude that they had reconciled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps she could find him. Perhaps he was out at the stables-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>No she’d become far too lost in him already. Nahri had replayed his rejected proposal over and over again in her mind, imagining what could’ve been had she just said “yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she had said no, and his proposal had been born of an apology - not love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had to focus and devise some sort of plan to escape the dreary fate that awaited her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri slid off the table and began to stroll about the ballroom, arms folded behind her back as she continued to gaze up at the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She supposed that such a fate must be appealing to someone. To live the comfortable life of a wife to a wealthy man. A man who may love her. To paint and sing and play piano. To build a family of her own. To fill a house with happiness and laughter and throw balls and parties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri would’ve given anything for those ambitions to be her own. To long for something so attainable and so accepted by society.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her only hope in her current circumstance would be to marry someone who understood her ambitions. Who approved of them. But no such man of society existed, it seemed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He exists, he is merely no man of society.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And a man who wasn’t of high society could not provide Nahri with life she dreamt of. With a practice of her own. Money was needed for that. Money that a former general presumably did not have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m amazed you can still stand…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri gasped in surprise, whirling to face the doors where Dara had entered. She was suddenly very aware of the way her nightgown fell about her hips, leaving little to the imagination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgive me, it was not my intention to frighten you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri shook her head, tucking a curl behind her ear. “It’s fine, it’s fine. What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara continued to close the distance between them and she found herself struggling to reconcile this man with the one who had nearly collapsed in shame for coming across her, alone in a garden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arriving before her, Dara pointed to one of the windows. “One of the mares was restless. I was walking her about the grounds and spied you through the windows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you thought to come chide me, I presume?” Nahri said with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara chuckled. “No, my lady. I have learned by now that there is no chiding you and little good comes from attempting to do so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri folded her arms over her chest and shrugged her shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll ask once more, how are you still standing?” Dara asked. “I had presumed you would be sick and sore after all the spinning you had to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep evades me,” Nahri sighed. “It often does when I am sad. Perhaps I need to be walked about the grounds like your mare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara’s expression grew concerned, her joking tone not fooling him. “I know that these events take their toll on your patience, but what has saddened you?” Nahri’s cheeks felt hot and the footman appeared embarrassed. “Forgive me, Nahri. I should not have asked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri shook her head again. “No, it’s fine. It’s just that… tonight I was given what I’ve realized may be the most generous offer I will ever receive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I take it that this generosity is not nearly generous enough,” Dara smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri laughed in spite of herself. No man was quite so accomplished at getting her to smile. Her heart warmed then sank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He offered me his support as long as I provided him with an heir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did not expect Dara to understand. No man seemed to be able to grasp the sacrifice of what having a child meant to a woman. They assumed it was in a woman’s very nature to want to give away her body for nearly a year. They assumed all women found joy in caring for a child at the loss of their own peace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, men of high society seemed to only concern themselves with their children’s accomplishments over their day to day lives. It was beneath them to play nursemaid. It was not in “their nature” to be nurturing. Any child Nahri would bear would become her first priority despite the man’s promise to support her passions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But of course, Dara could not be expected to see this-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would indeed be receiving the short end of the deal there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri’s brows shot up at Dara’s reply. He cocked his head to the side, curious at her reaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps I misunderstood-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t,” Nahri cut off. “No, you… you understand perfectly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara suddenly appeared very pleased with himself. “People assume that their wants and needs are universal. There is no shame in wanting something different for yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri felt the tightness of her shoulders loosen and the breath stuck in her chest release (as was customary in Dara’s company).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it is not necessarily that I never want a family of my own,” Nahri admitted. “It is just that I do not wish for one now. It just feels so… so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So very soon. There is much you wish to accomplish before resigning your life to another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly! But nobody seems to care what I want so… so what choice have I but to… give in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she said the words her heart sank. Dara took a step towards her, his brows were knitted together. “There is no need to give in. I told you before that I am confident you will make your own way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How shall I do that?” Nahri asked with a mirthless laugh. “Every man I confess my desires to either laughs or leaves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara took another step towards her and in the moonlight, still as he was, he appeared to be a man carved from stone. His eyes flickered briefly to her lips then up to her eyes. He appeared… strained. As though he were biting back emotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri stared up at him pleadingly. Begging him to speak in her silence. The spell she was unaware that she had cast on him took hold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The right man, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>worthy</span>
  </em>
  <span> man,” he began, voice rough, “would neither laugh at nor leave a woman as incomparable as you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri’s breath was stolen from her. Her lips tingled with anticipation and there was a fire coursing through her veins that she did not wish to end. She closed the distance between them with a hesitant step. A muscle in Dara’s jaw twitched. They had never been in such close proximity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would the right man do, Dara?” she asked softly. “What should I look for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara swallowed and for a moment, appeared to be sobering himself. She worried he would leave, realizing the impropriety of his actions. But instead, he cleared his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He would meet your eyes from across the room first,” he began, voice timid, “and only after you returned his stare would he approach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause fell between them and Nahri nearly gripped the fabric of his shirt to beg for him to continue. But without prompting… he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He would bow to you, like this.” Dara ducked his head, bending at the waist, then stood back up straight. His emerald eyes were blazing and then as gently as though Nahri were made of glass, Dara took her fingers in his strong hands. “And given you were still interested, he would do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara pressed his lips to her knuckles and Nahri’s knees nearly buckled at the gesture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did not lower her hand, breath hot against her fingers as he continued. “And then he would ask you for a dance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enraptured by him, Nahri was silent. She blinked and after a moment, the corner of his lip hitched up. “Do you accept?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand that held her’s weaved their fingers together, lifting their joined hands out to the side. His other hand moved to the small of her back and beneath the thin cotton of the nightgown she could feel the warmth of his palm. Instinctively her free hand cupped his broad shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved with such grace Nahri wondered if all soldiers were so poised. No music played but their steps fell so in tune, so gently that it did not matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And while you danced, he would ask you of your dreams, of your desires.” His eyes did not leave hers. “What is it you desire, Lady Nahri?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To practice medicine,” she managed, chest tight. “To… heal the sick. To help others. To learn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara’s forehead inclined, his gaze was soft. “And as you spoke of your dreams he would be utterly enraptured by you. He would hear the passion in your words and feel admiration for a woman of such unparalleled allure. He would devour your every wish and feel a hunger to make them all come true. If only to see you smile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her legs felt numb and her heart pounded against her ribs and they continued to float slowly about the marbled floor. Then as suddenly as he’d begun, they stopped. Her eyes dropped to his chest that was heaving just slightly then lifted to his mouth. When she met his eyes again they were aflame with yearning and she felt herself burn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned her head in feeling his breath against her face. His throat bobbed, then his eyes closed. Nahri’s own eyes fell shut and she waited with baited breath for the feeling of his lips against hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it didn’t come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And only when the song ended, would he pull away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri opened her eyes, unable to overcome the desperation that betrayed her features. Dara was pulling away from her and the absence of his hands left her freezing cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He refused to meet her gaze, teeth clenched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dara…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is what you deserve in a husband, Nahri,” he said, voice husky. “No less.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara departed the ballroom, leaving Nahri breathless and alone.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next few chapter will take place close together</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nahri and Dara discuss plans for the upcoming Masked Ball</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The library at the Nahid London Estate was far smaller than the one in the country mansion. Nahri read nearly every book of interest, however, she was convinced there was more to be offered on the top shelves. A section far out of her reach since the ladder currently had two broken rungs. A repair Dara was happy to assist with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri was stroking the nose of the chestnut colored mare that Dara had grown fond of. Truthfully, he seemed to be fond of all horses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was sanding the new rungs he had carved for the ladder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both were keen to act as though they had never argued. Likewise neither mentioned their dance in the ballroom in the dead of night, or alluded to Dara’s failed proposal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though the proposal was seemingly always at the forefront of Nahri’s mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You should have accepted.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thought played over and over in her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cleared her throat, shoving the words aside. “My aunt is positively fuming about the Qahtani’s ball.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara raised a quizzical brow, continuing to sand the wood. “Do you high society types ever cease with your near constant celebrations?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri guffawed. “I don’t know why you ask me. I’ve not been here for even a season.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, why is Lady Manizeh so unsettled by this particular occasion?” He blew the remaining wood shavings off the new rung, examining his work shrewdly. “I would think she would be eager for another opportunity to parade you and Jamshid about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri scratched behind the horse’s ear. “I think it is equal parts that the event is exceedingly extravagant and that anyone of any status may attend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri’s eyes lingered on the muscles in Dara’s forearm as he fitted the rung to the ladder - they flexed deftly. She suddenly remembered the feeling of his hand braced on the small of her back, of their intertwined fingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Extravagant how? All the events have been disgustingly grandiose in my opinion,” Dara muttered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed and wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, before picking up the second rung off his workbench, starting to sand it down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri was completely distracted by the gesture and vaguely wondered what it would be like to make him sweat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking herself from her lustful thoughts, Nahri continued. “It’s a masked ball. Hence the gesture that anyone may attend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara chuckled. “Ah, your aunt likely fears you’ll form an attachment to a man of poor circumstances…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She likely fears for Jamshid as well,” Nahri shrugged. She gave the mare’s flank a gentle stroke, refusing to look at Dara. “Do you think you shall attend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She heard his sanding cease. “Me?” There was a pause and his sanding resumed. “I imagine I will be working.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri tried to keep her tone casual. “Well, you usually spend a majority of your time just wandering about while we celebrate. I imagine you could simply put on a mask once you have bid us goodbye and attend the ball like anyone else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at Dara out of the corner of her eye. He was twisting the rung this way and that in his hand, but his gaze was unfocused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I didn’t know better I would say you wished that I would attend…” he smirked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri forced herself to turn away from the horse, looking at Dara straight on. “I do not deny it.” She stepped closer to him. “After all, you proved to be quite the accomplished dancer. I’d like to sample more of that skill.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He offered a wry smile. “You would allow me a dance with you then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she responded, with no hesitation. Her cheeks flushed. “I enjoy your company, Dara. You know this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned his attention back to the rung he was sanding. “I do not wish to cause you any unease.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unease?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, if you recall… I proposed to you,” he said, clearing his throat. “I would hate for you to feel obliged to dance with me. You owe me nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unconsciously, she drew closer to him and Dara froze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are aware that there is no persuading me to do anything I do not wish to do,” she said softly. “And we are both aware that you proposed as an apology - not by way of attraction.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara looked away, fitting the next rung into the ladder, but Nahri could’ve sworn she saw him frown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice was tinged with amusement, “And how would you recognize me? If I were to wear a mask?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that is part of the fun, and masks have eye holes you realize,” Nahri said knowingly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you saying you’d recognize my eyes anywhere, Nahri?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nahri flushed furiously at the grin on his lips, becoming eager to shift the topic. “And how are you to recognize me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would know you anywhere,” he said simply, and Nahri’s stomach flipped. He tested the stability of the ladder with his foot, not looking at her. “The way you fiddle with your fingers, and the set of your lips when you’re bored.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see…” Nahri breathed. “Well, I suppose we’ll put that to the test then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara nodded and lowered the ladder, tucking it under his arm. “Well, that’s that done. I’ll accompany you to the library and set the ladder back on its wheels.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They headed inside, Nahri carefully avoiding being hit by the ladder and trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean it then?” Nahri said timidly. “You’ll attend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dara glanced over his shoulder at her and she could see some manner of trepidation in his eyes. “If I can procure a mask, yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could find one for you,” she offered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come now,” chuckled Dara. “Evidently my very eyes will give me away. I’d like to make this a little difficult on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unable to fight off the broad smile now overtaking her face, Nahri laughed. “I accept your challenge, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That night Nahri dreamt of masks and gowns and renewed proposals. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It’s the night of the Mask Ball</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You have been increasingly absent lately, cousin,” Nahri remarked as she inspected her appearance in the hallway mirror. “And Darayavahoush says you’re not off with him.”</p>
<p>Jamshid suddenly became very enamored with the newel post at the bottom of the stairs and muttered something about his mother and father making them late to the Qahtani’s Masked Ball.</p>
<p>Nahri pursed her painted lips, arching a brow. “So where have you been? Share tales of your adventures with me, won’t you?”</p>
<p>“I will not bore you with stories of pubs and late night glasses of brandy,” Jamshid shrugged. He cleared his throat and joined her before the mirror. “That shade of blue suits you.”</p>
<p>Nahri agreed. It was not the traditional, Nahid sky blue. It was navy and dark as midnight. The neckline and capped sleeves were fairly standard but the pearl beaded bodice was fitted lower than Nahri was accustomed to - just at the middle of her ribs - falling gracefully outward around the shape of her hips. </p>
<p>But unfortunately for her cousin, Nahri had already been distracted by her dress earlier this evening when she imagined Dara’s reaction to its cut and style. She would not be deterred from her line of questioning now.</p>
<p>“Eager to change the subject, Jamshid?”</p>
<p>Jamshid frowned. “I’m not certain as to why you’re so concerned… or are you jealous, perhaps?”</p>
<p>“Jealous indeed,” Nahri grinned, facing him and giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. “And suspicious as well.”</p>
<p>Jamshid looked momentarily alarmed but quickly adjusted his expression. “Suspicious?”</p>
<p>“Tell me, is there a face that Jamshid will be seeking out this evening? Is there a clandestine romance in the works?” Nahri whispered with a grin.</p>
<p>Jamshid cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing. “I could ask the same of you, cousin.” A knowing smile of his own spread on his lips. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you and Darayavahoush have been spending much of your time together…”</p>
<p>Nahri swatted the breast of his velvet suit jacket. “Don’t be absurd. We’re friends.”</p>
<p>Jamshid pointed to her face. “Your scarlet cheeks say otherwise.”</p>
<p>She hadn’t seen Dara yet tonight. She wondered about the mask he’d managed to procure. They had a very simple plan to avoid seeing one another before the ball - to present a challenge in identifying each other. Nahri would enter the carriage before her Aunt and Uncle, a slight faux pas but not one that wouldn’t be forgiven. </p>
<p>“Anyone may attend tonight. Even a footman,” Jamshid shrugged with feigned nonchalance.</p>
<p>Before Nahri could retort, Nisreen descended the steps, two wooden boxes in her hands. One contained Jamshid’s mask, the other Nahri’s. </p>
<p>“Your Aunt and Uncle should be ready to depart any moment now,” Nisreen said, handing Jamshid his box with a bow of her head. “Do you require assistance, sir?”</p>
<p>Jamshid opened the box to reveal a golden domino mask decorated with carefully painted blue ivy lines and threading. </p>
<p>He shook his head and approached the hall mirror. “I can manage, Nisreen, thank you.”</p>
<p>Nisreen curtsied and turned to Nahri, she opened the small wooden box with a reserved smile. Nahri pressed a silk, gloved hand to her collarbone in surprise. It was a rather ostentatious mask. Navy blue with swirls of deep green painting the edges, and a tall peacock feather adorning the left hand corner.</p>
<p>“Shall I assist you?” Nisreen asked with a warm smile.</p>
<p>Nahri only nodded, removing the mask and handing it to her lady’s maid with great care. Nisreen set the wooden box on the hall table and fitted the mask to Nahri’s face. The measurements the crafts-woman had taken were indeed worth the time Nahri had spent idle. It fit perfectly.</p>
<p>“Hold it in place for me, my lady,” Nisreen requested.</p>
<p>Nahri placed her fingertips over the curve of the mask at her temples. Nisreen stepped behind her and lifted the navy ribbons, tying them beneath Nahri’s curls that had been pinned off her neck with a pearl comb. </p>
<p>When she crossed to stand before Nahri once again, Nisreen beamed. “You look lovely, my lady.”</p>
<p>The remark was very forward for Nisreen and she could tell by the deepened creases in her forehead that she had briefly considered keeping the thought to herself.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Nisreen,” Nahri said. “And will you be attending.”</p>
<p>“No, my lady,” Nisreen chuckled. “I’m afraid I’m incapable of staying awake much longer.”</p>
<p>Nahri laughed and faced her reflection in the mirror. Her lips parted in surprise. She had never seen herself appear so… regal. It suited her, the gown and the ornate mask with escaped curls framing her face. She looked mysterious and elegant.</p>
<p>It wasn’t a look she could see herself sporting every day but for this night, it was perfect.</p>
<p>“If I may say, Nahri, you are a vision,” Jamshid said with a wry smile.</p>
<p>Nahri opened her mouth to thank him, then heard the footsteps of her Aunt and Uncle above them. It was time to get into the carriage. She gave Jamshid a hasty word of thanks, nodded gratefully to Nisreen and headed for the front door.</p>
<p>Exiting onto the sidewalk, she found her knees were shaking. She looked down each direction of the sidewalk, ensuring Dara was not in sight. Indeed, the only presence before their estate was that of the unattended carriage and its horses. </p>
<p>Without aid, Nahri clambered inside of it, careful not to snag her dress on the doors. She took a seat, then a deep breath to calm the burning sensation in her chest. It wasn’t anxiety or nerves, but an intense feeling of anticipation that seemed to build with every passing moment.</p>
<p>Outside Nahri heard six sets of footsteps. Her aunt and uncle, Jamshid, the carriage drivers and the sixth belonged to who she assumed was Dara.</p>
<p>Her suspicions were quickly confirmed.</p>
<p>“Have you considered attending tonight, Darayavahoush?” Kaveh asked. “A former military man would surely be welcome.”</p>
<p>“I had not considered it, sir. I certainly want to ensure you are attended to.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense,” Manizeh said, her voice even and deceptively warm as usual. “I am confident we can manage for a night. They will likely have an extra mask for you.”</p>
<p>“Yes, well, perhaps. I am not one for celebrations.”</p>
<p>The corner of Nahri’s lip hitched up and the carriage door opened. She turned her head to look out the opposite window not wanting to take any chances of Dara spying her.</p>
<p>Nahri was surprised to find that on the journey over to the Qahtani’s the only scolding she received from her aunt for settling into the carriage first was a stern look.</p>
<p>“If it can be avoided, Nahri, try to avoid Muntadhir’s company,” Manizeh said. “And from what I have heard, his younger brother is on leave.”</p>
<p>“I shall be vigilant of the both,” Nahri nodded.</p>
<p>When she looked over at her aunt, she saw that the woman’s fingers were threaded between her husband’s. For all her cold demeanor and stony disposition, there was no denying Manizeh loved Kaveh. She loved her son as well. It was only Nahri that she was detached from. Likely due to the estrangement between her and Nahri’s late father. His marriage to a woman of lower status had disappointed Manizeh greatly - that much was clear.</p>
<p>How would Manizeh feel if Nahri were to wed her footman?</p>
<p>Eventually they arrived at the Qahtani Estate. It was large to say the least. About half the size of the Nahid’s country mansion, including a ballroom and courtyard.</p>
<p>To avoid Dara once more, Nahri slipped out of the far carriage door, careful not to fall off balance of her heels. </p>
<p>“Careful, Nahri!” Manizeh hissed.</p>
<p>Jamshid slid out of Nahri’s side, bracing her shoulders to ensure she did not tip over. “Eager, cousin?” he chuckled.</p>
<p>On the other side of the carriage Nahri could hear her aunt thank Dara for assisting her onto the sidewalk. Jamshid raised a quizzical brow.</p>
<p>“Oh, yes. Very much so,” she smiled patting his shoulder.</p>
<p>At the sound of Dara’s steps walking around the front of the carriage, Nahri started towards the back. It was like a dance almost - their coordinated agreement to avoid one another.</p>
<p>Nahri felt the anticipation in her chest swell and inclined her head to kiss both her cousin’s cheeks. </p>
<p>Jamshid chuckled. “Very well. Shall we get you out of the road before you meet your end being trampled by a carriage?”</p>
<p>Nahri took his hand giving it a squeeze. “Yes.”</p>
<p>End of The Mask Ball Part I</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The masked ball will take place in three parts</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mask Ball II</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Qahtanis spared no expense on their celebration. The band was exquisite, the food was divine, the drink delicious. Even Manizeh was unable to restrain her delight. She and Kaveh took to mingling and dancing before Nahri and Jamshid had finished their first glass of champagne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lady Nahri, Lord Jamshid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri froze at the sound of Lord Muntadhir’s voice. Her eyes combed the room to see if her aunt was watching scornfully. No, she appeared preoccupied with a couple in matching rabbit masks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to see you, Muntadhir,” Jamshid interjected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri offered the lord a pleasant smile, bracing herself for the dance he would inevitably ask for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muntadhir frowned from beneath the scarlet mask he wore. “Am I so quickly outed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A surprise,” Nahri said with exaggerated shock. “The season’s most popular Lord is not disguised with his cheekbones obscured.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muntadhir chuckled and Nahri found herself not entirely loathing his company in such a friendly capacity. Unexpectedly, the lord turned to her cousin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jamshid, I promised you a tour of the grounds, did I not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri’s brows knitted together. When had he promised Jamshid such a tour? She’d never seen the two share more than two conversations the whole season.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamshid looked to Nahri. “Do you mind terribly if I leave you unattended?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri waved an errant hand but before she could send Jamshid away with a word, Muntadhir interjected, “Oh, I’m sure Lady Nahri will befall the company of one of my siblings or a suitor in no time at all. Look at her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri felt her cheeks warm and her lips part in surprise at Muntadhir’s brashness. Enjoying the effect he’d had on her, Muntadhir smirked before facing Jamshid once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestured to a corridor with his arm, “Shall we, Jamshid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jamshid gave a single nod of his head and glanced at Nahri. “I will not be long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri shrugged and the two departed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could seek out Dara in peace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri weaved through the crowd, eyes peeled for any sign of the footman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were many men in well cut suits. Chins held high, intricate masks and simple domino masks. Men with confident posture, neck length hair and short coiffes. She knew none of them were him. No, she was looking for a man with a sculpted jawline, broad shoulders and eyes the color of emeralds. Eyes she got lost in. A smile that reckoned the stars above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I have a dance, Lady Nahri?” a hesitant voice asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri turned with a start to see a gentleman in military garb, the top of his face obscured by a silver mask and his chin hidden by a neatly trimmed beard. She had never seen him before but she recognized him instantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lord Alizayd al-Qahtani, I presume?” Nahri said, attempting to mask the impatience in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She needed to find Dara.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” the man confirmed. He grimaced, “I ask for only one dance. I must confess, I have been put up to this by my father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri offered the man a polite smile. Perhaps a dance would allow her to better survey the ballroom. Dara could have already taken a dance partner with the same idea in mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One dance then.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri offered her hand to Alizayd, praying her aunt did not see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took to the floor as the next song began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alizayd was a fine dance partner, if a bit too rehearsed. He seemed just as eager as Nahri for this to end as they stepped forward then back and forward then back, turning, then back together, a spin and a spin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri’s head swam with the twirling and the champagne as she continued to nonchalantly search for Dara. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music swelled and Nahri felt her throat get thick. Had he changed his mind? Would he not attend? Why did that upset her so?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lady Nahri,” Alizayd said, between steps. “Are you quite well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course,” she smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you certain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Forward. Back.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave him a wry look. “Yes, too much champagne, perhaps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Turn. Back together. Spin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri’s eyes caught sight of the profile of a man in a pine green jacket across the dance floor. A simple, matching domino mask secured on the sharp features of his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Spin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As they turned again she desperately combed the crowd for him, but he had vanished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t need to get any closer to see the color of his eyes. She knew by the tight line of his shoulders and cut of his jaw that it had been him. The walk that was weighed down by years of grief and guilt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The song ended and Nahri forced herself to stop searching the crowd and meet Alizayd’s eyes as they bowed to each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fled the dance floor, her hand in his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Lady Nahri. I fear I’ve taken up too much of your time already,” he said with an uneasy laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” Nahri said. “Thank you for the dance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a final bow Alizayd looked much relieved. “Enjoy the celebration.” And he left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri took a deep breath, ready to maneuver the ballroom once more - vigilant for that pine green suit with the simple mask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She started through the crowd once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lady Nahri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri’s breath caught. Slowly she turned, her heart pounding as she caught sight of the pine green jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes traveled up the suit to the hard cut of his jaw, a faint and almost surprised smile on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dara.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I not tell you that I would know you anywhere, my lady?” Dara said, stepping closer to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breathless she watched as his eyes swept over her, and behind the mask she could see his expression was reverent. She curtsied to him with numb knees. He returned a bow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned a palm up, extending it to her. “Are you too spent to have another dance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Nahri said, a smile breaking out across her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri placed her silk gloved hand in Dara’s. With great care, he lifted her knuckles to his lips and for a moment she thought she would fall over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed to enjoy the affect, a poorly concealed grin on his face. But there was also a part of him that seemed almost nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still breathless, Dara led Nahri back out onto the dance floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In time with all of the other dance partners, they circled one another - eyes never breaking contact - then coming together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he had that night in the ballroom, he braced a hand on the small of her back, another sliding down her arm to delicately lift her wrist. A tremor went down her spine as she placed her free hand on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music began and Nahri found her heart racing just as it had in the moonlit ballroom of the Nahid country home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They moved with the other couples smoothly and rhythmically, Nahri’s eyes locked with Dara’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did not mind if Manizeh saw. She did not mind if anyone knew who was beneath the green domino mask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nearness of him, the scent of him, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> of him set her ablaze. Nahri burned brightly beneath his gaze and let herself smolder. She willed the song never to end. For it to play on and on until the end of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it you desire, Lady Nahri?” he asked, voice low and heady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri blinked, her heart aching. “To learn and practice medicine.” The thumb of the hand braced on her back moved in a gentle stroke and her next words left her unbidden, “And I desire you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara’s jaw tightened and she saw his green eyes flicker. “Me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded and could feel her expression become yearning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dara’s head bowed ever so slightly. “All of me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nahri’s voice was barely audible over the strings of music. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They slowed to a stop with the rest of the crowd and in perfect time, Dara dipped Nahri back ever so slightly. Her heart thrummed against her ribs and her head began to spin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you shall have me.” They straightened as the music faded. “I am yours.” They parted, bowing to one another and when their eyes next connected, she could see his gaze was deferential. “And I shall always be.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next will be the final part of the Masked Ball</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mask Ball Part III</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em> “I will meet you in the west corridor in ten minutes time.” </em>
</p><p>Nahri was practically counting down the seconds as she bided her time within the ladies’ room. </p><p>In the mirror her face was flushed beneath her mask. </p><p>She was not entirely sure what would happen after this night, but nothing would be the same between Nahri and Dara. Of that she was certain.</p><p>Bracing her hands on the sink, Nahri inhaled deeply through her nose, trying to quell the excitement that rushed through her. Her deceitful heart did not slow its beating. </p><p>Nahri wasn’t sure she wanted it to.</p><p>Walking to the restroom exit, the door opened to reveal Zaynab. Even in her silver mask Nahri recognized the bone structure.</p><p>“Lady Nahri,” she said with a sly smile.</p><p>“Good evening, Lady Zaynab. This celebration is truly unforgettable,” Nahri said appreciatively, if not a bit quickly.</p><p>“You’re too kind.” Zaynab maneuvered around Nahri then cast a smug grin over her shoulder. “He looks dashing by the way.”</p><p>Knowing it was of no use to deny the claim, Nahri sighed. “He does indeed.”</p><p>With a musical laugh that made the world glow green with envy Zaynab retreated further into the ladies’ room, “Enjoy your evening, Lady Nahri.”</p><p> </p><p>In the corridor, Dara stood alone by one of the long windows, a glass of champagne in his hand. For a moment, Nahri could have sworn he seemed nervous beneath his mask. His stare met Nahri’s and the corner of his lip hitched up causing her heart to stutter. </p><p>He took a swig of his champagne, setting the glass on the window sill, and continued down the corridor.</p><p>Nahri followed, doing her very best not to hasten her stride. </p><p>He turned left down the next hall then through a set of doors leading to the estate’s gardens.</p><p>When Nahri joined him she found the gardens were indeed occupied by a great many couples, but Dara did not pause, walking past a row of tall hedges and out of sight. With her head ducked, Nahri followed. </p><p>The moment she stepped past the hedges a hand encircled her wrist, tugging her to the side and into the shadows.</p><p>She did not fight it, leaning into the gesture instead, and allowing herself to be pulled flush against Dara’s chest. </p><p>His hand slid down to her fingers and slowly pulled the silk glove down past her wrist. Nahri gasped as it fell to the grass and the rough skin of his bare hand trailed from her fingers to her upper arm. </p><p>Dara pulled her to him, hurriedly and their eyes locked.</p><p>His free hand cupped her cheek, a thumb running along the edges of her mask.</p><p>“May I, Lady Nahri?” he asked, voice husky. “I beg.”</p><p>Breathlessly, Nahri replied: “God, yes.”</p><p>He dipped his head and hungrily pressed his lips to hers. Nahri’s body shuddered and she found herself unable to be close enough to him. Her fingers threaded in his hair, yanking him closer.</p><p>Between fervent kisses she gasped for the cool night air.</p><p>Dara’s hand cupped her breast, a noise rumbling in the back of his throat and Nahri had to bite down on her lip to suppress the sound threatening to escape her. </p><p>He bent slightly, hands sliding down her back and cupping the underside of her thighs. In one swift movement, he had lifted her to straddle his hips. She feared briefly that he may fall over, but he stood firmly, assuredly.</p><p>Completely lost in the sense of belonging, Nahri crushed her lips to his, but he pulled away.</p><p>Before she could protest, his lips swept the line of jaw, trailing down her neck and to her collarbone.</p><p>A soft gasp left her as she tilted her head back. “Did you mean it?” she asked, voice breathy. “That you are mine?”</p><p>He pulled away, emerald eyes willing her to stare at him, and he said with staggering simplicity, “You’ve been blind. I have been yours since we met in the garden.” He bowed his head against the base of her neck, hot breath tickling her skin. “Whether I admitted it or not, I have always been yours.” </p><p>Dara slowly lowered her to stand back on the ground, a hand still cupping her burning cheek. Nahri could see his eyes were wet and she felt her own begin to sting.</p><p>“If I asked again, Nahri, would you say yes?” Dara said roughly. “My vow remains. I will take you away. <em> Somehow, </em> I will see that somehow you are able to practice.”</p><p>The word “yes” tried to claw out of her throat, but she had to be sure first.</p><p>“It isn’t out of apology that you ask for my hand?”</p><p>His forehead leaned to touch her’s, fingers pressing on the nape of her neck. “It was never an apology, Nahri. It was always a plea.” A choking noise escaped him as though he was struggling to breathe. “Nahri, I beg you don’t deny me again. I cannot bear it. Say yes.”</p><p>Her face threatened to split in two as a smile spread on her lips. “Yes.”</p><p>A strangled laugh left him. “Yes?”</p><p>Nahri nodded, unable to stop smiling. “Yes.”</p><p>“Yes,” he exhaled, unbelievingly. He pressed his lips to hers and Nahri felt a warm tear fall from his face to her’s. “You will marry me?”</p><p>“I will.”</p><p>The world was gracious and for a moment, it halted. It allowed elation and relief to breathe life into them. Dara’s eyes fell shut and Nahri saw the tense line of his shoulders fall. Not out of disappointment, but deliverance.</p><p>He exhaled steadily. “Your Aunt may be displeased.”</p><p>“To hell with my Aunt,” Nahri growled. “She is not the one you are marrying.”</p><p>Dara released his hold on Nahri’s torso, instead taking her hands. “Then allow me to see to it. It shall be done.”</p><p>A pang of worry struck Nahri. “I am not yet twenty-one, Dara. I do not have my guardian’s consent.”</p><p>He shook his head. “Leave it to me.” He kissed each of her hands tenderly. “I do not make my vows lightly.” Dara retrieved Nahri’s glove from the ground, handing it back to her. “We should return.”</p><p>Positively intoxicated with delight, Nahri slipped her glove back on. How would she keep from bursting the rest of the night when a piece of the heavens had fallen into her hands?</p><p>“We will cut through the servant’s entrance. No one will notice,” Dara said offering his arm. </p><p>He guided her across the grounds, walking around the maze of hedges when two mingled voices fell upon their ears. Nahri’s brows furrowed, they sounded familiar.</p><p>She pulled away from Dara instinctively, trying to seek out the source of the noise.</p><p>“Nahri, we need to return…” he whispered.</p><p>Nahri rounded the last row of greenery to find one man pressed against the hedge wall, his head tipped back as another man trailed kisses along his throat. Both of their masks were discarded. They were completely lost in one another.</p><p>Nahri blinked herself out of her trance. “Jamshid?”</p><p>The man trailing the kisses froze and slowly turned to Nahri. It was sure enough, her cousin. The other man’s head lowered and faced Nahri.</p><p>“Muntadhir?” Dara remarked, joining Nahri.</p><p>Jamshid swore under his breath, pushing away from Muntadhir who was clearing his throat vigorously. </p><p>“Lady Nahri. A surprise,” he remarked. “And your footman. Whatever could you two be doing unchaperoned in the gardens?”</p><p>“Nothing so unlike the two of you,” Dara answered for her.</p><p>Muntadhir flinched just slightly. “And what of it? Is it really more scandalous that two men of nobility meet in shadows than a disgraced military man turned servant and a low born girl pretending to be noble?”</p><p>Nahri recoiled.</p><p>“Muntadhir,” Jamshid cautioned sternly.</p><p>But Muntadhir’s eyes flashed with fear that he was attempting to mask as outrage. “I don’t believe Lady Manizeh would be too pleased to hear of this.”</p><p>Nahri opened her mouth to protest, but Dara had stepped before her. “You threaten us, sir?”</p><p>“Do I?” challenged Muntadhir.</p><p>Jamshid stepped between the two of them. “Would the two of you calm yourselves? What has happened this evening need never leave these very grounds.”</p><p>“Jamshid is right,” Muntadhir said, raising his chin a fraction. “As long as <em> former </em>General Darayavahoush understands his place here among the noblemen.”</p><p>Dara stepped forward, Nahri tugged on his upper arm. “Dara-“</p><p>“You are more a spoiled boy than a nobleman.”</p><p>“And you are more a monster,” leered Muntadhir. He peeked around Dara at Nahri. “Has he told you what he’s done, Lady Nahri? Why he’s a footman now?”</p><p>Jamshid looked puzzled for a moment, then shook his head pushing Dara and Muntadhir apart with his hands. “None of that matters.” He looked to Nahri. “I shall not speak of what I’ve seen and we can surely count upon the both of you to remain silent in return.”</p><p>Before Nahri could agree, Dara’s pride reared its head.</p><p>“What <em> you </em> saw? You’ve seen nothing but Lady Nahri and I strolling the grounds. We saw <em> far </em> more transpire…”</p><p>What did he think he was doing? Dara was smarter than this.</p><p>“Ah, and you believe the word of a footman will trump that of a lord, do you?”</p><p>“We could see, <em> boy </em>.”</p><p>“Why don’t we then?” Muntadhir asked, cocking his head to the side. “Tomorrow at dawn. A duel in the western woods clearing.”</p><p>“Muntadhir, you go too far,” Jamshid snarled.</p><p>Dara extended a hand before Nahri could draw it back. “I accept.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Heading to the finish now folks</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jamshid, Nahri and Dara tell Kaveh of the duel</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“A duel,” Kaveh repeated, leaning on the mantle over his study’s fireplace. “And you can’t breathe a word as to what it is over?”</p><p>Dara shook his head. “No, my lord. Hence the duel came to be.”</p><p>The light of the flames flickering across Kaveh’s concerned features aged him years. He pushed off the mantle looking to Jamshid who was pouring himself a generous glass of brandy from the liquor cart in the corner. </p><p>“You will be Darayavahoush’s second, Jamshid.”</p><p>Jamshid froze, eyes fixed on his glass and Nahri felt her stomach sink. The man was in a position she did not envy. She clenched her fingers in her lap, glancing at Dara out of the corner of her eye. From her seat on the settee he was a towering and imposing figure.</p><p>The weary lord of the house stroked his jaw. “You may take two of the horses. I don’t suppose you have a set of dueling pistols?”</p><p>“I do not,” Dara confirmed.</p><p>Nahri nearly rolled her eyes. The man agreed to a duel with no pistols, no transport and having just agreed to take a wife. Her blood nearly boiled with anger. It did not escape her notice that Dara had not met her eyes once. Probably realizing that this duel he had agreed to with such haste had been a grave mistake.</p><p>Kaveh dragged a hand down his face and crossed to the mahogany cabinet by his desk. He removed a sturdy box made of cherry wood and extended it to Jamshid.</p><p>Her cousin’s face was wrought with grief.</p><p>“You shall accompany, Darayavahoush, son. Understood?” His tone was commanding but warm. </p><p>Jamshid nodded reluctantly, tossing back the remainder of his drink. His eyes were distant, unfocused.</p><p>Again, Kaveh, turned to Dara. “And you will not tell me who your opponent is?”</p><p>Dara’s eyes flickered to Jamshid who fixed him with a pleading look.</p><p>“Depending on the outcome, you may know tomorrow, my lord.”</p><p>Kaveh cast a wary glance at Nahri. “I don’t suppose you will tell me, my dear? Seeing as you witnessed whatever transpired for this duel to ensue?” </p><p>Nahri shut her eyes, exhaling and trying to wrench the heaviness from her chest. It did not work.</p><p>“As Darayavahoush has said, you may likely know all tomorrow.”</p><p>Kaveh set his jaw, nodding. “Darayavhoush, Jamshid, please leave. Nahri, stay.”</p><p>With a apprehensive glance, Dara departed, Jamshid following with dragging footsteps. </p><p>The door shut and Kaveh sat beside Nahri on the settee. </p><p>He grimaced. “Nahri, I can only imagine your distress at the situation.”</p><p>For a moment, panic flared in Nahri. Were her feelings for Dara so transparent?</p><p>“Jamshid is only a second. He will return,” Kaveh said hopefully. </p><p>Relieved, Nahri nodded, doing her best to muster a pleased expression - but tears stung her eyes. “Yes, that is fortunate.”</p><p>“And I do not know the opponent, but I assure you that Dara is a fine shot.”</p><p>Oh, no.</p><p>Nahri’s head snapped in Kaveh’s direction. He wore an understanding smile.</p><p>“They leave at dawn. Meet me here in the morning. We will keep one another company. You are clever, you can help me brace for whatever scandal may come of this.”</p><p>Nahri sighed, gathering her courage. “And should we trail behind them unnoticed?”</p><p>Kaveh chuckled. “You are more like Manizeh than you realize.”</p><p>Nahri snorted. It was not unthinkable that she and her Aunt were both ambitious women, unimpressed by the world of men. The world of men with their blood and violence and hot tempers.</p><p>“The time will pass easily, you will see. We’ll share a pot of that tea you are fond of.” Kaveh squeezed her hands warmly, the corner of his lip lifted and he lowered his voice, “Perhaps add a spot of brandy?”</p><p>Nahri laughed in spite of herself. “Alright. But if you find I am absent in the morning, know that I’ve found a way to hinder them.”</p><p>“Godspeed to you,” Kaveh said with a wan smile. “Get some well earned rest. A mask ball and a duel challenged in one evening…”</p><p>Nahri stood and drew her robe tighter around herself. “Agreed.”</p><p>“And Nahri,” Kaveh called, as Nahri reached for the door handle. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Let this news stop here. Your aunt needn’t know unless necessary.”</p><p>Nahri nodded and exited the study. Her eyes began to prickle with tears of anger. She would give Dara a piece of her mind. How could he forfeit his life as quickly as he promised it to her?</p><p>Dara had been a military man but Muntadhir was a Lord who practiced shooting daily and had doubtless dueled before. Either way, Dara’s victory was not guaranteed.</p><p>Nahri started for the stairs, determined to confront Dara in the stables where he no doubt was sulking when a door clicked behind her.</p><p>Nahri turned to see Dara and Jamshid exiting her room, speaking in hushed voices. They caught sight of her and paused.</p><p>Nahri’s fists balled at her sides and she stormed down the corridor towards them. Jamshid left Dara’s side, meeting her halfway down the hall.</p><p>“Nahri, we are… in difficult positions,” Jamshid said.</p><p>Dara leaned against the wall behind him, Nahri glared over her cousin’s shoulder at the footman. </p><p>“Yes, it seems our paramours are both prideful asses,” Nahri growled.</p><p>Jamshid smiled sheepishly then pulled Nahri to him in an embrace. “Are you disappointed in me, cousin?” he asked into her shoulder.</p><p>Her fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt, the anger creasing her forehead softening. “What is there to be disappointed in when my cousin has the courage to steal his own piece of happiness?” Nahri pulled away to see his eyes were shining. “I am glad for you, Jamshid… even if I am infuriated with my hot tempered betrothed.”</p><p>And I pray your love dies tomorrow, not mine…</p><p>Nahri felt her face fall but before she could apologize, Jamshid was shaking his head.</p><p>“It matters not,” he whispered, rubbing her shoulders. Jamshid glanced over his shoulder at Dara then looked back to Nahri with a wry smile. “Be lenient with him, Nahri. His passion for you burns fiercely.”</p><p>“Jamshid,” Nahri said, swallowing, “I cannot bear my love being the reason that you lose yours.”</p><p>“Then do not bear it.” He kissed the top of her head, mustache tickling her hairline. “Try to sleep, cousin. And know that I too am glad that you have the courage to steal your own piece of happiness.”</p><p>Jamshid silently escaped to his room, leaving her and Dara alone in the corridor.</p><p>“Be lenient with him, Nahri.”</p><p>Her footsteps were angry but she reined in her temper. Dara stood in front of her bedroom doors, chin held high.</p><p>Arriving before him, Nahri crossed her arms. “You look pleased with yourself, sir.”</p><p>“I do not deny it.”</p><p>Nahri’s brows drew together and the heat of her anger became increasingly difficult to suppress. “Do you understand that after tomorrow morning you will either have killed the man my cousin has given his heart to or have broken your vow to me?” </p><p>“I told you,” Dara said, his knuckle grazing her cheekbone, “that I do not make my vows lightly.”</p><p>“So you are assured in your victory over Muntadhir tomorrow?”</p><p>The man had the audacity to chuckle and Nahri felt the tears of fury and sorrow begin to spill from her eyes.</p><p>“And what of me if you lose, Dara?” Nahri sniffed, her chin held high in what little fury she could muster. “What of Jamshid should you win? You entered this arrangement thoughtlessly and as a result-“</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“No?”</p><p>“No, I did not,” he said sternly. </p><p>Dara lowered his head to place a kiss on her lips. Nahri wanted to pull away in aggravation, but she feared this may be the last time she felt his lips against hers.</p><p>“You infuriating man,” she growled, breath hitching.</p><p>“Oh no, Nahri. Do not cry,” Dara said, combing his fingers through her unruly curls. </p><p>His eyes scanned the hall carefully and Nahri nearly cursed him for it. What did it matter now? Besides, her Uncle knew.</p><p>“All will be well, Nahri. I swear it. Go to sleep,” Dara leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “And I will see you at dawn.”</p><p>Before she could question or protest, he lifted her fingers to his lips and started down the stairs. </p><p>Confused, enraged, desolate and brimming with longing, Nahri entered her room. She considered calling for Nisreen. It wouldn’t be the first time she had held an impromptu confession with her lady’s maid in the dead of night.</p><p>But then her eyes landed on her bed where two lumps were covered by her woven blanket.</p><p>Nahri let her robe fall from her shoulders then cast it aside onto her sofa. Brows furrowed, she approached the bed and removed the blanket.</p><p>Beneath it were her father’s weathered physician bag and her small traveling case.</p><p>With trembling fingers she undid the latches on her case and opened it.</p><p>Inside were a few sets of clothes and quite possibly every bit of jewelry she owned.</p><p>“Be lenient with him.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>One or two more chapters left</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The final chapter</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nahri did not sleep. She laid in her bed, mind wandering as she stared up at the ceiling. </p><p>Dara had packed her bags with clothing and jewels. He’d told her that his vow would be kept. That he would meet her at dawn.</p><p>But how could he be so certain of his victory? How could he so easily condemn Jamshid’s happiness? How could he keep his promise if they were apart? </p><p>And there was still the matter of her not being of age to marry without her guardian’s consent even if he did live to tell the tale. </p><p>Did he plan on sending her away? What arrangements had he made? Did he plan on making a deal with Muntadhir using her jewels? </p><p>Nahri’s mind reeled with possibilities all night. The urge to flee to the garden was tempting, but her body felt so tired and broken she did not want to move.</p><p>The nightingale’s song faded, the moonlight retreated. Turning her head, Nahri spied the pink-grey light of dawn.</p><p>Preparing herself with a deep breath, Nahri silently rose from her bed, and started for the window overlooking the stables.</p><p>Outside were two horses. Dara gave the muzzle of the chestnut mare an affectionate stroke then started for the doors leading to the house. He was wearing a grey traveling coat. </p><p>Nahri squinted at the mare, trying to catch sight of the strange bump protruding from its side.</p><p>A bag?</p><p>Not just “a bag.” His bag.</p><p>A soft knock came from her door. Nahri dashed over to it noiselessly, pulling it open just a crack.</p><p>Dara stood just outside, the corner of his lip hitched up. “Have you forgotten I said I would meet you before dawn?” he whispered, voice tinged with frustration.</p><p>“I’ve no idea what I’m to dress for!” hissed Nahri.</p><p>Dara tilted his head to the side. “Truly? Nahri, you are too clever to be so blind.”</p><p>Her curiosity outweighed her temper, so she set her jaw defiantly.</p><p>“Last night, I secured two horses, did I not?”</p><p>“For the duel…” Nahri said slowly. </p><p>“No, not for the duel but for Gretna Green.” Nahri’s hand fell from the door and Dara’s grin broadened at her reaction. She could marry at Gretna Green without need for guardian consent. </p><p>The jewelry he had packed was as good as a dowry.</p><p>“I have bought us time with the duel that Muntadhir was so easily swayed into demanding. If you recall, I informed you that I did not agree to it thoughtlessly. Jamshid will play his own part to aid us.”</p><p>“Be lenient with him.”</p><p>“Fetch me your bags and then dress warmly. It is a long journey.”</p><p>Nahri fought off a smirk, instead giving him a stern look. “You could have shared your plans with me last night…”</p><p>The footman rolled his eyes with a snort. “Be quick about it, will you, my lady?”</p><p> </p><p>The journey to Scotland had indeed been long with Dara and Nahri stopping every few towns to sell her jewelry. Most shops could only afford to purchase one piece and so one piece at a time they collected Nahri’s supplemented dowry.</p><p>The wedding had an attendance of five, including the bride and groom and officiant. The reception had been a shared bottle of wine in the comfort of their inn room, tangled before the hearth where a fire blazed brightly.</p><p>“And what is next?” Nahri asked. “Where do a runaway footman and aspiring female physician flee to, Darayavahoush?”</p><p>He raised a glass to her. “Wherever they please.” Dara took a swig of his wine. “But I hear America is liberal about women practicing medicine. Alternatively, we could travel for a bit. Try to find a village or town willing to accept a female physician. I promised you I would find a way, and I have made good on my every promise to you.”</p><p>His face was unreadable but his voice betrayed apprehension and concern. She could see the regret and doubt creeping into his emerald eyes.</p><p>It was best not to dwell on it when their chances of happiness were higher than they’d ever been.</p><p>“What about you, Dara?”</p><p>His eyebrows raised. “Me?”</p><p>“I’ve confessed my desires to you a dozen times over, but I’ve yet to learn of yours.”</p><p>Dara examined the contents of his glass, thoughtfully. “My desires are nothing so grand. I simply desire to belong somewhere again. Somewhere good.”</p><p>“I am pleased to inform you that you belong with me,” Nahri grinned. “And I will personally ensure that our circumstances, no matter what they may be, are ‘good’ at the very least.”</p><p>Dara grimaced. “There will be whispers that follow us. Former military man and lady of society or not, we eloped to Gretna Green and ran from a duel.”</p><p>“Oh, Muntadhir could hardly spread word of your flight without betraying himself and Jamshid,” Nahri said with an errant wave of her hand. “And whispers have never bothered me. I would like to see them whisper after I have set their broken bones… or after falling victim to one your scowls.”</p><p>Dara chuckled. “One of my scowls?”</p><p>Nahri clambered onto her knees, grinning at her husband.</p><p>Husband.</p><p>“They are quite intimidating to say the least. And you as a whole are very imposing.”</p><p>“You say that with such admiration, wife.”</p><p>Nahri felt a shiver go down her spine at the term. “I admire every inch of you, husband. There is not a single fraction that I do not appreciate.”</p><p>Dara’s hand raised to cup her cheek and Nahri found herself leaning forward. She held her breath, bracing herself for whatever words would next leave his lips. His accidental flatteries were spoken in earnest.</p><p>“I will never be worthy of such affection,” he said softly, “but know that the whole of you, every fragment, I hold in the highest regard.”</p><p>The unkind words that clung to their reputations only fell upon deaf ears. Dara’s vow held true and though there were whispers, Nahri was able to practice irregularly in their journeys - assisting the odd weary traveler or poverty stricken family.</p><p>There were no more balls or gowns or finery one would equate with high society.</p><p>There were wounds and late suppers and sometimes shouting at one another in the dead of night. There were kisses, no longer stolen or secret. </p><p>And life went on. It went on beautifully.</p><p>The End</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that’s the end. Thanks to astarisms for convincing/bullying me into publishing it and to Colleen for her comments.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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